


It

by Manuuk7



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:28:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 41,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22092577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manuuk7/pseuds/Manuuk7
Summary: An encounter with a new alien species. Enterprise responds to a distress call but only finds a wrecked ship. Once the landing team is back on board, strange visions plague them and T'Pol suffers from violent headaches. What did they unknowingly bring back to Enterprise? What is It? And what does It want?
Relationships: T'Pol/Charles "Trip" Tucker III
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notes from the author: Another short story. Or at least not too long. All characters except those created by me belong to Paramount.

xxx  


It waits. Has been waiting for a long time. The wind howls straight at It through the holes of the rusted shell that was their transport. Its organic symbiot is long gone to join the fine layer of dust on the floor, the only testimony to its existence the long-beaked skeleton strapped in the pilot seat. The transport methodically pushes out its distress signal. There is enough energy that the beacon will keep emitting its call for years to come, possibly centuries. Nobody ever comes through this sector of space.  


It waits.  


Eons, centuries, millenia, all are meaningless to It. It doesn't need energy to survive other than that created by the constant flow of electrons in the planet's organic matter. If It were on its homeland, It would join the ranks of those awaiting a symbiot. It may take years, possibly centuries, but It would find another symbiot for a full life. And when at the end It rejoins the ranks of the unassigned, unless the symbiot did something to destroy It, It would start all over again.  


It waits.  


It is alone. Nothing but the emptiness of the wind whistling in and around the broken hull. Nothing but the suns raising and setting on the empty land.  


It waits.  


Eventually something will happen. Someone will come. A transport out of the planet. Possibly a host, if It were so lucky. At least a transport. They won't even know It's there.  


xxx


	2. Distress Signal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enterprise intercepts a distress signal

xxx

** _Enterprise_ **

"I'm getting a signal, Captain!" Hoshi coked her head to the side, focusing on the slight twing she could hear amid the background noise of space. It had the rhythm of words, possibly a full sentence, but she couldn't make out the language.

The words repeated three times and she waited for some change that would let her know this was an alien vessel signaling its crossing through an unfamiliar area of space, better to be left alone unless the Captain decided to reach out and meet them. That made her sigh inwardly. When had Captain Archer ever left an alien ship alone, no matter how much hindsight showed that to have been a poor decision?

In fact he was already at her elbow, his entire demeanor one of barely repressed excitement, leaning forward as if almost physically pressing for contact with the alien ship, "What is it, Lieutenant?"

Hoshi shook her head, "The language is nothing I've ever encountered before, Sir..." She held up a finger to ask for quiet as she focused on the signal, "What I find is that..." she leaned forward herself, sheltering the earbud, nodding as she confirmed what she said next, "...it's the same call, over and over again." She took off the earbud, looked up at Archer, "It sounds like a distress signal."

"A distress signal?" Archer's tone was constant but his body tensed up as if he were ready to pounce into action. He turned towards T'Pol, as if to officially appoint her a witness to the event, "Thoughts, Commander?"

The Vulcan looked at the Captain, carefully considering what she would say next. The Captain's excitement was barely hidden and predicated that he would try to contact the alien ship. He wanted her to corroborate it was a distress signal, but she could not confirm what she did not know. Pointing out they did not know anything about the alien ship would be pointing out the obvious, an illogical use of energy. Moreover, inferring from the Captain's mode of operation in previous incidents, words of prudence would be disregarded, with a seventy-nine point one percent probability any counter argument would be shut down with the statement "It's my decision!" But it was her duty as Commander and First Officer to make the Captain aware of potential dangers in his chosen course of action.

She was a Vulcan and duty was preeminent. "I would trust Lieutenant Sato's interpretation," she said with a slight inclination of her head towards Hoshi, who blushed with pleasure at the rare compliment, "that it is indeed a distress signal." T'Pol paused. "I would also advise you that we know nothing about the culture who launched this ship and the language is not one of Lieutenant Sato's extensive database..." Hoshi turned slightly in her seat to raise her eyebrows at Travis - two compliments in a single day?! She was going places. Travis smirked in response. The only places they were going where those where no man had ever gone before. "...this calls for the greatest caution," T'Pol was finishing her note of caution, "If these aliens are ill-intentioned towards others, we are far removed from any possibility of help or intervention," .

Archer nodded impatiently, "Yes, yes, I get it."

He turned towards the main screen, his eyes shining with the lust of the hunt, "but if this is a distress signal, these people may need our help. I know Vulcans haven't charted this sector of space yet, but that won't hold us back from lending a hand to our fellow spacefarers."

His not-so-subtle reference to Vulcan charts was his way of pointing out Vulcans would let the alien ship to its fate, but Humans would not. T'Pol understood it as such and briefly nodded in response.

Archer strode back to his chair, sat down with a sense of satisfaction, "Travis, lay a course to the coordinates of that distress signal. Let's go see if there's anything we can do."

"Aye, Sir!"

It was Travis' turn to raise his eyebrows at Hoshi. There they were going again.

He only hoped it would turn out better than usual.


	3. The Wreck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enterprise finds distressed ship

** _Enterprise Crew_ **

"What do you make of it?" Archer turned to Reed. They could catch glimpses of the alien ship twenty or so yards away. The vegetation had kept it hidden almost until they were upon it. Even from this distance it was obvious it was a wreck.

Once Travis had figured out the coordinates, it had taken no time to find the location of the beacon. It was on a small planet, barely Minshara. Phlox had to inject a dose of hemoxygen and strictly limited their stay to three hours. They'd already spent an hour trudging from the landing site to the location, careful not to drop in too close in case this was a trap of some kind. That left them about an hour to explore and figure things out.

Reed was silent, looking at the burned out shell, taking in the state of dislocation and decay. This was not a recent accident. There was no signs of life, no biosigns. Nothing. Just the wreck. Perhaps it was some kind of engineering malfunction that had forced the vessel down. In that case it should be Trip standing there, not him. Trip could at least tell them what had happened, beyond the obvious in the form of the huge boulder the ship had face-planted against. There wasn't much for him to do or say other than follow the customary safety procedures.  
He un-holstered his gun, keeping it at eye-level, motioning to the captain with his chin, "I'll go take a look, make sure it's safe."

Archer nodded with a frown. He didn't like being held back, but he'd hadn't argued against Reed taking the lead since the incident in the Expanse. [Extinction]

Reed approached the vessel cautiously, peering inside through the large gaps in the hulk that could have been from the explosion or from rust. The cabin was empty. All he could see was a sekeleton strapped in a pilot chair. Two arms, two legs, one long-beaked face. He'd never seen anyone quite like it. Then again perhaps he'd seen aliens like that before but they looked different in the flesh, it was difficult to tell from a skeleton.

The ship was still jammed against the boulder that had stopped it. Reed carefully stepped in through where the hull had ruptured, taking the rest of the cabin at a glance. It was empty, save for the single alien skeleton. Reed hoped it had been a quick death. Perhaps there'd been others who'd left the ship... but then they'd have turned the beacon off. Or taken their comrade with them for proper burial ceremonies. Reed canceled the thought. No, there had been no others.

It was difficult to tell what the vessel had been. A merchant ship? Perhaps only dealing in consumables? If there had been anything organic in the hold it would bave long decayed but there would be traces left, containers, packaging... This ship was as empty as can be. The pilot may have been going back to its home planet or out on a trading run. Who'd ever know...

xxx

** _It_ **

It had sensed the arrival of organic lifeforms, could tell there was a disruption in the energy continuum. It started shimmering in tense anticipation. Perhaps a transport?

These were indeed life forms. They were coming closer, talking in an unknown language.

They were not _symbionts_. It had hoped it would be symbiots who found It, they would know to take It back to the Realm of the Unassigned.

But even if these were not symbiots, perhaps they could provide a temporary host until It made its way back to the Realm. It had all eternity to do so. And if they didn't, they could still be useful strictly as transport, unknowing and unseeing of the one they were taking with them. It had no corporeal form, only symbiots could sense It.

It may have all eternity to get back to the Realm but time was wasting to grab the transport. It needed to make its way to the edge of the skeleton, a proposition made more complicated by the fact that It could only move through peristalsis, a long and arduous process. It started slowly extricating itself from the skeleton's _lassan iculen_ , where It had lain protected all these years.

As It did so, It started undulating, bending the energy fields around It to help push It forward. These same energy fields would also influence the aliens, unconsciously spurring them to come closer, so It could latch onto them and free itself from eons of waiting time.  
It moved painstakingly, a wisp of nothingness slowly making its way out the _lassan iculen_ , unseen and unseeable except to the symbiots.

xxx

** _Enterprise Crew_ **

Reed put the gun back in its holster, calling out, "All clear!" as he stepped to where the skeleton was. He was strangely drawn to it, perhaps the alien-ness of that jutting beak. He wondered if the aliens used their beaks in close combat, he needed to check how that might work...

A couple of minutes later, Archer came in through the broken fuselage, looking around at what was left of the spaceship. He spotted Reed up front next to the pilot. He was just standing there, staring at the beaked skeleton. Archer got close and looked down too, wondering what it was that kept Reed mesmerized. It wasn't as if the two of them hadn't seen their share of skeletons in the past.

The Englishman seemed to shake himself off a day dream, looked at Archer, "... ah, Captain," he nodded towards the front of the shuttle, imbedded in the behemoth boulder, "talk about sticking a landing..."

Archer frowned, looking at the broken front. He could almost feel how the pilot'd thought he'd nailed a tough landing, was planning to get out and fix the mechanical failure that brought him down, get back into space. A busted fuel line possibly. But then this boulder-thing that he couldn't see because of the vegetation. Just as he was coming to a stop, a couple of trees, he thinks he has enough inertia to shear them off when the bumps into them. And then wham!… The boulder. Glass breaking, bones breaking, shattered silence. And then nothing...

He shook himself off, frowned again. It had been close. Another couple yards and the guy would've made it. He turned back to Reed, "Well, let's shut the beacon, make sure nobody else comes out of their way for noth-" Archer suddenly stopped talking, looking fixedly at a point down Reed's arm.

"Sir?" Reed, asked, surprised.

Archer kept peering intently, then shook his head, "Nothing."

Reed was wondering if the Captain was finishing his previous sentence or commenting on what had stopped him.

"Nothing," Archer repeated, providing the answer. "I thought I saw something move on your sleeve, but there's nothing there."

Reed looked down his sleeve, first one then the other, reflexively passing his hands down and under them. He couldn't feel anything there. "There's nothing there," he confirmed to Archer.

The Captain's mind was already on other things. He nodded, turning around towards the opening. "Let's get back to the ship, then," he said as he started back out, "I'll log that we came in too late to render assistance." Phlox would be happy to see them come by within the regulated time. For once.

xxx


	4. Reed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alien is attached to Reed

xxx

** _Reed_ **

"Finally!" Archer exclaimed as the end of the decon time rang. He quickly donned his uniform, turned to Reed, "Coming to the bridge?"

Reed was still tugging at his boots and didn't answer.

"Are you alright?" Archer looked enquiringly at him. The security man felt 'off', as if he hadn't fully shaken off whatever had kept him mesmerized in front of the dead alien.

"I'm fine, Captain!" Reed replied, straightened up emphatically as proof.

Archer eyed him dubitatively, "Ok... ok. Well, it's the end of shift anyway, let's call it a day."

"I need to bring the guns back to the Armory," Reed replied, "then I have to work on my report."

"Suit yourself," Archer said. "See you on the bridge in the morning," he added as he crossed the threshold.

Reed checked his reflection in the mirror, making sure every last thread was at taut attention. Satisfied, he exited the decon chamber in turn.

He nodded at the two ensigns on duty as he stepped into the Armory. They jumped to attention, waiting while he checked the weapons back in, carefully logging the time they were returned, ammo level, oil readings, etc... Once he was done he dismissed the ensigns. He was alone in the armory, reviewing the stacks of weapons neatly arrayed on the walls, opening the storage compartments to check on the torpedo heads, making a full visual inventory of the weapon supplies. He wasn't sure why he needed to, he just knew he had to.

xxx

 ** _It_**  
The decontamination had had no effect on It, a non-corporeal being. The cleansing waves washed through without encountering anything to latch on. It had remained firmly anchored to the transport's boots, would remain there until another transport presented itself. Not just any transport. It shimmered nonstop in its excitement. There was a host on board.

It had felt the tantalizing whiff as soon as they arrived. A hundred or so organic lifeforms aboard, all tightly pressed within the metallic skin of the ship, all potential transports to the Realm of the Unassigned. And nestled in the middle, a host.

A host.

A host meant freedom. A host would bring It to the Realm. Even if it were not a symbiot. All It had to do was provide the direction and the host would provide the power to get there.

Now It needed to find the host. And It would find it. There were only a hundred transports on board. It would hop from one to the other until It found the host, while bending the energy waves around to make the host come to It. One could never be too careful.

xxx

** _Reed_ **

Reed stared catatonically at the rows of weapon-holders, seeing but not seeing the metallic hues of the phasers through the transparent wall closets. He wasn't really there, he was high up in the sky, looking down at the circular fight tower.

The wind was coming from above, a pattern he knew well. The downward draft would push on his opponent wings, precipitating him towards the stone-paved courtyard. His opponent would wait until close to the ground before countering in an upward spiral, neck and beak fully extended, counting on Reed to follow him closely and expose himself to the kill. Pushing down on the warmer ground air he would flick his beak quickly, aiming below Reed's beak, right where the cartilaginous bone meets the windpipe, the softest part of the body, to tear into the flesh and skewer the _gediod_ within. Leaving Reed unable to fly or fight, already dead, his body slowly rotating to the ground, his gediod wiped from the Realm for all times.

But his opponent did not know about this specific fight tower, how the crenelated openings high above the ground created a surprise downdraft that would push his opponent down just as he reached the apex of his extension, his beak encountering air rather than the expected spongious tissue. Reed would hold off for the exact length of the flick and avoid the deadly beak. And then there would be no further upward air movement to lift up his opponent and Reed would come down upon him like an avenging angel, beak first, speed and gravity letting it tear into the other fighter's skull like butter.

Another win. He wouldn't try and skewer to gediod. There was nothing glorious in preventing a gediod from another life. only the glory of victory mattered.

Reed shuddered and the vision shattered into a thousand shards. He found himself staring at the weapon closets. The room was dark. Obviously, he'd been standing immobile long enough for the motion activated sensors to dim the lights. He shuddered again. How long had he been there? There was nobody there to ask, the specialists on duty had left the room, they didn't need to be there if he was.

He looked around, trying to understand what happened. He passed a hand on his forehead but he didn't have a fever. There was no wind in the armory, had never been, would never be, not unless there was a hull breach and then goodbye to all of them. Why did he feel so strange then? Where did these visions come from?

He'd wanted to know how the aliens used their beaks in combat. But this felt deeper than a daydream. And truth be told it was his second vision. Just as gory as the first. He hadn't told Archer then. Nor since. He'd told the Captain he was fine but he wasn't sure. He'd never experienced anything like this. Both visions left him uneasy, as if they didn't belong to him, as if he shouldn't be knowing any of this.

He shook himself off mentally. Perhaps it was a combination of fatigue and finding the dead alien. That must be it. He'd go to his quarters, rest for the night. He'd be fine in the morning. If it happened again, he would go see Phlox, make sure there was nothing wrong with him, like a brain tumor or something.

The door swooshed open and he turned in tense anticipation, ready for an enemy strike.

"Malcolm!" it was Hoshi, "I've been looking all over for you!" Her tone was mildly exasperated, no more than on any other night when he had lost track of time because of some aspect of security or another.

"I was just putting our weapons away," he replied, rather defensively.

Hoshi seemed uncredulous. "For the past four hours?"

Malcolm blinked, unsure how or what to answer. It certainly hadn't felt like four hours. He'd checked the weapons back in, alright, make that thirty minutes. Then the on-duty ensigns had left and he'd been... His brown creased. What had he been doing exactly? He'd been carefully looking at all the weapons, making sure he knew where they were. And those in the storage holds. And then there had been the vision.

But four hours? That was three hours too many, more or less.

"It's not been that long!" he exclaimed. It couldn't be. She must have her facts mixed up.

Hoshi just stood there, watching him with a degree of concern.

"Are you all right?" she finally asked.

"I'm fine," Malcolm huffed back. He would tell her about the visions and how he wasn't sure himself. But not right now. Not in the middle of Armory.

He put an arm around her waist, bringing her close to him, inhaling the scent of her hair. It felt solid, real, an antidote to the visions. "Come, let's go to bed," he said. The report would wait until the next day. When he knew the visions were gone.

They left the room, both unaware of It gently pulsating at the edge of Reed's boots.

xxx


	5. Hoshi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alien is attached to Hoshi

xxx

** _It_ **

It was pulsating gently, unseen from all on board, at the edge of the uniform of his new transport. The decision to switch transport had been an easy one. It had gained little from his other transport, who had gone in a remote area of the ship, far from where the host was, or other transports. Though It had been able to influence him into revealing all the weapons on board, a thorough and enlightening review. None of the weapons were usable to symbiots or effective against geodids, but it was still useful knowledge.

The arrival of the new transport had been a godsend. The transfer had been made easier by how long the two transports spent in close contact, and more complex by the fact both transports shed their outside layer at the same time. It had had ample time to make its way to the other transport, but considerable difficulty identifying which layer belonged to which transport.

In the end, It had made the right choice and It was now attached to the new transport. Already this one had been in contact with several other transports. None of them were the host, but It was confident that she would eventually bring It to the host. All It had to do was wait.  
The transport had stopped in front of a glass wall. There was the sound of swishing doors and the transport stepped in. It almost exploded in shimmers. The host had been there! It could taste it.

There was another transport in the room. That one had been in contact with the host. It prepared to move.

xxx

** _Hoshi_ **

"Hoshi! What brings the pleasure of your company this morning?!" Phlox was all smiles, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.

The young communications officer was not quite as ecstatic. She nervously shuffled from one foot to the next, looking around to make sure nobody was there, before leaning forward in a conspiratorial manner, "Can I talk to you off the record, Doctor?"

Hoshi mentally kicked herself as she said it. What had ever made her think there was any such thing as off the record with Phlox? On the other hand, she reasoned, there were many times when he had provided her with guidance and support, and no word of it had ever reached Captain Archer. She reassured herself that she was fine.

Phlox was looking at her keenly. He broke into a wider grin, "Of course, Hoshi, of course. You know that everything you tell me is under the mantle of doctor patient secrecy!"

"Even if I'm not the patient?"

That gave Phlox paused. He considered it for half a second, before beaming again, "If it is something that troubles you, doesn't that make you the patient, hmmm?" he purred.

That's all that Hoshi needed to hear, "It's Malcolm, Doctor! I know he's not going to come and see you but I'm wondering about his mental state. He's been having visions since we went to rescue that ship, he described them to me. They're pretty atrocious! He's worried that perhaps it's a sign of something organic-" She stopped herself, looking hopefully at Phlox, willing him to say of course it wasn't.

Instead, the doctor bounced a couple of times on his heels, obviously thinking. "And you time this to the rescue the alien ship?" he asked.

"Yes! It was only yesterday so perhaps it's nothing, but I wanted to talk to you about it," Hoshi said.

Phlox nodded in understanding. Hoshi Sato would forever have an apprehension of space and things alien. That was not a bad thing. Hypervigilance in space was okay. Who knew, one day Hoshi could be the one that saved them all.

"Hmmm," he said, mulling things over. Commander T'Pol had been here early in the morning for an increased dose of headache medicine… That was unusual. If anything, her organism was getting more adept at handling being surrounded by Humans. That would make it two unusual events. "And how is Lieutenant Reed this morning?" he prompted.

"He felt much better when he woke up, he doesn't think he's going to get any more of these... visions. But I could tell he was still worried."

"Ah..." Phlox paused, "And how do you feel?" he was eyeing Hoshi intently, wondering. Was her barging in his office first thing in the morning, highly worried about what was obviously a non-emergency, would that be a sign of something else at work? In that case that would be three unusual events. Too much for happenstance, enough for further exploration?

Hoshi blinked, surprised at the question. She hadn't even remotely considered how she was feeling. "uh... I'm fine?" she hazarded.

"No unusual nervousness, feelings of anxiety?" Phlox prodded further.

"No..." Hoshi chuckled, "Actually I'm perfectly fine. Have never felt better."

But Phlox was not paying attention to her. He was sniffing the air, as if finding in it some unfamiliar essence. He stopped when he realized she was waiting for a reply, "Uh... yes, yes... Do you smell anything strange?" he suddenly asked.

Hoshi shook her head, "No, no..." It smelled like Sickbay always did. A smell reminiscent of times she'd rather forget. All of a sudden she wondered why she had even come see the doctor. So Malcolm had a couple of bad daydreams, it could be something he ate. Why did she even think it could be something related to the alien ship? That sounded paranoid. She suddenly felt silly, "oh, well... I'd better get to my station, sorry to have bothered you, Doctor!"

And with a smile she was gone, unaware that It was no longer on to her uniform, its pulsating form now attached to the doctor.

xxx

** _Phlox_ **

Phlox looked around his office as if he'd never seen it before. He smelled the air again. There was something else there, a whiff of something different, floral perhaps... alien? But there was nobody there with him. He started opening every drawer, reviewing the state of medical supplies, checking on his menagerie, even the ones that were hibernating. Partly to make sure there was nothing unexpected there, partly to... He wasn't sure why he needed to do it, he just knew he had to.

Once he had picked up and held every last lascalp, checked every last piece of medtape on board, it was mid-morning already. Phlox sat down at his computer, ready to consult the interexchange medical database. He wasn't sure why, he just knew there was something he needed to check on. There was always something more to learn about alien physiology, right? All the people around him. They were all aliens. When was the last time he'd actually worked on a Denobulan patient? Had a Denobulan patient even? Held Feezal in his arms?

But it would be a while before he could see her again. He would always be surrounded by aliens, living on strange worlds. He felt the wind coming down the fight tower, looked up at the symbiots fighting high in the sky. Within minutes one of them would be on the stone-flagged floor, its lifeforce ebbing out or already snuffed out. Hopefully the latter or he would have to plunge his bare hands into alien viscera and blood, try to separate death from its scythe. Useless. These fights were to the death, most losers dead before they even hit the ground, and those that did survive, wishing never to have been born. Why did they even have doctors on hand? If only -

"Engineering to Sickbay! Emergency!" The call jostled him awake and he almost fell out of his chair. Phlox blinked, looking around. What was that?! What kind of dream had that been?! He wasn't hibernating, he shouldn't be sleeping. Certainly not daydreaming.

He'd already grabbed a medikit, was on his way to Engineering. He didn't have the luxury to try and figure out what happened. He had enough trying to figure out what Trip had done this time.

xxx


	6. Phlox and Hess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alien is attached to Phlox, then to Hess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this story rating had been updated to mature. Warning: Sex scene below.

xxx

** _It_ **

  
It had found itself almost jostled to the ground when Phlox abruptly got up from its chair, interrupting its anticipated review of medical information about the new transports. It hung on for dear life as its latest transport hurried out of Sickbay, finally managing to re-attach itself securely to the bottom of the transport's pant leg.

There were more life energies where they were going. It suddenly started pulsating. The host. There was a faint whiff of the host. It was getting stronger! They must be going where the host was! It started pulsating rapidly in anticipation.

The doors to Engineering opened and It's shimmering increased exponentially. The host was there. One of the transports turned around. That was the host!

But it was not...

Or was it?

It's rapid pulsating turned into the slow and haphazard strobe of puzzlement. That was the host but it also was not the host. It was more like a shadow-host. It had to come to terms with the fact this transport was not the host. It could not serve as a temporary receptacle for It.

It had never encountered such a strange phenomenon. It started mulling over the situation.

xxx

** _Engineering_ **

Phlox came in at an almost-run, aiming straight for the small crowd in a corner of the room. From experience, that's where he would find whoever was hurt, and from experience again, that would be Commander Tucker. 

He did a double-take when the first person to turn around and greet him was said Commander. "You're not hurt?!" Phlox looked as shocked as he sounded.

"Why would I be hurt?" Trip protested. He frowned as the implication of what Phlox said dawned on him. It wasn't like he was always getting hurt. Was it?... But he didn't time to dwell on it, his mind was on the issue at hand. He motioned to Phlox, "It's Hess, we've staunched the bleeding but I don't want her getting up until you've seen her." She was sitting on the floor, pale, holding her forearm, her sleeve soaked through with blood.

Phlox cut through the engineers standing around to get to her. He knelt at her side, mediscanner out, checking her vitals and the depth of the cut. "What happened?" he asked. Of course, the mediscanner would pretty much tell him, but there was nothing like having the patient herself provide the information. If nothing else, it was a window on her mental acuity and any potential state of shock.

"I reached into the duotronic invertor to clean it, then turned it on to check, but my arm was still attached to the sucvac," Hess grimly explained, "A stupid mistake." She looked up at Trip as if to have him bear witness to the idiocy of what happened.

"Hmmm," Phlox injected her with a painkiller, started palpating along her forearm for anything broken, "it looks like only a flesh wound, you were very lucky, young woman." He looked up at Trip.

Trip knew what he was going to say and raised his hands in defense, "Everyone has been on single rotations and is well rested, it's not because of overwork!" he exclaimed.

Hess nodded emphatically, "And that's probably why I got hurt, too. Let my guard down. Usually I am extra super duper careful to compensate for fatigue!"

Phlox humphed his disapproval. "It's called the Familiarity Trap," he explained, "and everyone can be guilty of it." That was said with a pronounced glance at Trip. "Okay, on to Sickbay, young woman, let's get you patched up." He turned to Trip, "She's off-duty until tomorrow."

Trip wasn't paying attention, his eyes set on the bottom of Phlox's pant leg, scowling.

"Is something the matter?" Phlox looked down to where Trip was staring but he couldn't see anything. He got up, helping Hess up in turn.

The engineer seemed to shake himself awake, "No... It's just," he shrugged, looked at Phlox, "Nothing. Tomorrow's fine." He nodded at Hess, "Feel better."

Phlox was escorting Hess out but she managed to stop in front of Trip, "Just so you know, boss, there's no reason I can't come back this afternoon," she whispered. She hoped Trip would get the message and plead with Phlox to allow her to come back to Engineering. Or it would make her seem weak and delicate and she did not want to seem weak and delicate. Like she was any of that.

"I heard that and the answer is no!" Phlox called her out, gently but firmly pulling her along.

Trip shrugged at Hess, privately glad the doctor had prevented him having to tell her 'no'. She was a redoutable opponent.

xxx

** _It_ **

It deliberated a long time. Should It stay with its current transport, and wait until it brought It to the host? Or should It cross-over to the almost-host? Chances were that the almost-host was in regular contact with the host. So It decided to switch to the almost-host. It proceeded to turn itself into a compact ball. That would enhance the peristaltic wave and allow It to jump. It would also make It almost visible to psi-sensitive hosts but that was always a risk. 

But It had spent too much time assessing the situation and It was too late. As It hovered at the edge, ready to push over the gap to the almost-host, its current transport suddenly got up and moved away. It found itself almost dislodged a second time, half-dangling in the air, trying to reattach itself to its transport. At least It was no longer visible.

The transport took It away from the almost-host until It found itself back where It had started, in Sickbay. Now the transport was busy repairing the other one while It watched.

All It could do was bend the energy waves to make the host come to It. It almost seemed like modulating the energy fields aboard the ship had the opposite effect, or the host should already have come to It.

If the host would not come to It, It would go to the host. There was no need for irritation or frustration, eventually, one of the transports would bring It to the host. It started pondering. The transport being repaired had been in contact with the almost-host. The almost-host was in necessary contact with the host. If It jumped to the transport being repaired, it would bring It to the almost-host, who would bring It in turn to the host.

The conclusion was simple. This time there would be no delay and It would reach its goal. It slowly started the peristalsis process to jump to the transport being repaired.

xxx

** _Hess_ **

"All done," Phlox cheerfully intoned. 

Hess sat up, looking at the transparent dermbandage around her forearm, then looked up at Phlox, "I feel fine. I could go back to Engineering-" she started.

But Phlox had been there before, "Oh no, no, no... Blood loss, shock, one has to rest, hmmm?" he beamed broadly, "Though kudos for trying."

"If you insist..." Hess morosely replied. She turned to don the clean uniform that had been delivered by the Quartermaster.

"I do insist." Phlox smiled at her.

Hess refrained from telling him what exactly he could do with his smile and turned to leave.

"Remember, Lieutenant, no going back to Engineering!" Phlox reiterated for good measure.

"I won't!" Hess hesitated on the threshold. Phlox had only barred her from Engineering.

She made a bee line straight for Travis's quarters. He was surprised and happy to find her at his door, comfortable in sweatpants and a T-shirt. "I thought you were on duty?" he said as she came inside.

"Got hurt, long story, or short, depending how you look at it," Hess showed him the dermaplast. She chuckled, "Time for some R&R, if you're up for it."

He laughed, "I'm always up for it."

Hess stepped to the bed, dropping her clothes on the floor along the way. Behind her, Travis took off his T-shirt and pants, kicking through the pile on the floor to get to Hess. The two of them had an understanding as sex partners during long hauls, nothing more.  
A few minutes later, Hess was on all fours, Travis pounding her hard and fast from behind, rivulets of sweat flying around both of them. Hess could feel his penis rubbing her sensitive core, each stroke increasing her pleasure until she clenched tight, raucously orgasming within the small room. Travis followed suit and they collapsed on top on each other, he still within her. They laid there unmoving for a few minutes, waiting. Within a few minutes, Travis's penis engorged again. Hesse rolled over on her back and he grabbed her hips, this time entering her in long and slow strokes, sliding all the way out between each thrust. He gently fondled her sensitive breasts before his mouth clenched on one breast, then the other. Bolts of pleasures shot through her. Hess arched her back with small cries of pleasure until she orgasmed again, in a shower of sparks behind her eyes, letting the wave of pleasure wash all over her.

She could tell from a quickening of his breath that Travis was close to exploding inside her. She looked at him, "If I get pregnant, I'm cutting your balls off..."

He gave a low guffaw, "That would be counterproductive..."

"Try me..." came the reply.

"Backdoor, then?"

"Yep." Hess turned over and Travis grabbed the lube bottle he kept by the side of his bed. Within a couple of minutes he was in her. The sensation was different, the sheath tighter. Travis tried helplessly to delay his orgasm. The feelings were too much. On the third stroke he came in an explosion of grunts and pants, then lay quite still on top of her, careful to support himself on his elbows. His penis went flaccid. This time he knew it would stay that way.

He rolled off her and the two of them fell asleep in a cloud of endorphins.

Hess woke up to the sound of Travis taking a sonic shower. He came out, toweling his hair dry.

"You're leaving me?" she asked playfully.

Travis grinned, "I'm on the beta shift this turn. Or you wouldn't have found me when you came knocking on my door." He grinned, "Mind you, I'm very happy you came knocking on my door."

"Anything to keep my favorite pilot happy and relaxed," Hess laughed at her own wit.

xxx

** _It_ **

It had come to the conclusion that shedding the outer layer was a common occurrence with these new transports and had remained attached to the boot of the repaired transport. 

But It had not expected the kick that separated It from the boot, sending It rolling on the floor, to the extent something without a corporal presence could roll. It had taken It quite a while to make its way back to the transport's boot, firmly reattaching itself. Even if one of the transports kicked again, It would not be dislodged from the boot.

It was only when the door closed on the transport being repaired that It realized that It had mistakenly attached itself to the boot of the other transport, not the transport that had been repaired. And they were now going somewhere that was not where the almost-host was.  
There was nothing It could do. It would have to wait and see where this new transport took It.

xxx


	7. The Host

xxx

** _T'Pol_ **

T'Pol blinked, rubbing one temple with a dainty finger. Her headache was not going away, if anything it was getting worse. The increased dose of painkiller seemed to have been ineffective. The headache had seemed to abate, but had never quite gone away. It had remained there, lurking in the shadows, a single high-pitched note of relentless focus, which at times increased into a blinding headache. Like now.

She checked the chronwall. It was almost the end of the shift. She needed to see Phlox again. He would be surprised again, it had been a long time since she'd needed anything to alleviate the pressure on her shields from a hundred or so unruly Human minds. The thought of an interaction with the doctor was too taxing in perspective, even if his mind was refreshingly better organized than a Human's. She suddenly yearned to be away from everyone on Enterprise. Isolation would bring her mental relief. Of course that did not apply to Trip. The bond filtered the maelstrom of his thoughts and feelings into an harmonious whole, a restful if refreshing frequency that did not weigh on her. Actually, she may consider establishing a bond with everyone on Enterprise, it would turn the emotional jungle into a rational construct in which she could exist serenely.

That she could even entertain the thought of bonding with everyone on Enterprise, no matter how fleeting the thought, was ample evidence that her mental processes were compromised by the headache. Which was now increasing exponentially. T'Pol looked to the chronwall again. She knew what she needed to do.

She quickly typed an internal message, informing Engineering that all systems needed to be kept active in her lab for she would be there for the beta shift. That would also serve as a private message to Trip that she would not be coming back to their quarters for some time.  
She approached the Captain's chair, "I will be in my personal laboratory conducting research on the quantum profile of this sector of space," she drily announced.

Archer looked at her suspiciously. He too was bored to tears with their present course but he wasn't running off to his lab, was he? Though that would be somewhat complicated since he didn't have a lab, personal or otherwise. He sighed. T'Pol didn't even have to excuse herself, she could just as easily have waited for the end of alpha shift. He took it as her asking 'with your permission, Captain'. "Sure, sure," he replied, waving a hand desultorily towards the turbolift. So long as she didn't give him details about her research, a man could only take so much boredom...

T'Pol turned to leave, froze in mid-step.

"What is it, Commander, is everything okay?" Archer called from behind her. Reed looked up with a frown, ready to jump if need be. Hoshi swiveled in her seat, taking in the scene, unsure of what was going on.

T'Pol seemed to steel herself into answering, "Yes...," she half-turned towards Archer, "Yes. I will be in my lab." The turbolift doors opened and Travis walked onto the bridge. T'Pol closed her eyes briefly against the resounding headache that was pounding at her temples.

"Are you okay, Commander?" Archer asked again, "Do you need to go to Sickbay?"

T'Pol shook her head slightly, "No, I went already... I need isolation. I will be in my lab," the last was said in rushed tones.

Archer scowled, "I'll send Ensign Mayweather with you, make sure you get there safely."

"Captain, I-" T'Pol started protesting.

"It's either that or Sickbay." Archer cut her off.

T'Pol nodded slightly. The headache was too all-encompassing to allow much more.

xxx

** _It_ **

It had no other choice than to wait for where this new transport would take It. It kept itself busy with the energy fields, trying to get the host to come to It.

It was so absorbed in its task that It almost didn't feel the host, until every wisp of its being started cramping in tense expectation. Could it be? It had already have too many false hopes. It waited, pulsating every few seconds. The transport stepped into a tubular room. When it stepped out, It's world erupted in a frenzy of fireworks. Every last of It's fiber was screaming in exquisite harmony, It's shimmering went to an all-time high - "The host!"

It double-checked. But this was not the almost-host, or another almost-host. It was the host. The host! The host was there.

And It had not prepared, It didn't have any inkling that It would find itself in the same room as the host. It was not even close to a state of compression that would allow It to could jump to the host. It stood frozen in place, waiting - It didn't know for what.

And that when its hard work to try and bend the energies of the universe paid off. Its transport was sent to accompany the host. It would find itself in close contact with the host. Close enough to jump. This time It would waste no time. It started compressing itself right away. Sure, It would be visible for a few seconds just before the jump, but It had plenty of experience with hosts, It would jump and quickly move to where the host could not see It.

And then all of a sudden It was in a confined area with the host!

It wasted no time. Compress itself into visibility for a couple of seconds, extend over the gap to where the host was, start its slow progression to find refuge and shelter in the host's lassan iculen, or whatever the host had that could amount to such.

xxx

** _Trip_ **

The pain was blinding, ripped him from the sleep of exhaustion, squeezing the breath out of his chest. Trip tried to breathe through the massive headache, stabilizing himself with one hand on the pillow. What the heck...?! He couldn't see anything.

And yet he knew that somehow this was not what he was feeling. The pain was not his. He staggered out of bed, falling over on his side. He closed his eyes, breathing through the pain. He'd dominate it, find a way. He started talking to himself, 'Remember, Tucker, this is not your pain. This is not your body hurting. You can overcome it!' That didn't work so well. Trip gritted his teeth, willed himself to his hands and knees.

And went down just as quickly. He needed to alert someone. He needed to... let them know... He started crawling on the floor, trying to keep his eyes shut against the agony that was exploding in his mind. He stopped only when he hit the wall, using it as a crutch to hoist himself up. Or perhaps he slithered along the wall until he was standing up, he would never be able to tell.

Where was the goddam intercom?! He found it blindly, he didn't know how and it didn't matter, "Trip to Sickbay... Please come in!" What was wrong with his voice? That was not his voice, that was a croak, chalk screeching on a blackboard, a frog croaking in his throat.  
"Phlox here. Trip, what's the matter?!" Phlox spoke urgently, as if he too recognized that this was not Trip's voice.

"The pain!" Trip started, realized he needed to say more, "It's T'Pol…," he went on, "something's wrong, she's in pain..." He wasn't even sure how he knew, when he was the one hurting, not able to stand up. He needed to tell Phlox, "It's T'Pol," he repeated, "...something's wrong... she needs help..." He let his hand drop from the intercom, he could no longer support his weight. He felt himself slide along the wall, folding on the ground. "You have to... T'Pol…," he said again. Hopefully Phlox could still hear him.

His head was split open, reverberating with ancient war songs that bounced inside his skull, turning his brains to mush. What was going on?! The pain in his head was so intense. He was seating on the floor. He fell on the side, bringing his legs in, instinctively tightening into a fetal position, closing his eyes against the pain, his entire being focused on the bond with her, "T'Pol…" He couldn't lose the link.

The link was what was hurting him but somehow he knew that if he lost her, he would never find her again, "T'Pol…"

xxx


	8. The Intruder

xxx

** _Phlox_ **

Phlox stopped in front of T'Pol's lab. He heard the loud bang of something breaking, sounds of struggle, someone was in there! He ran to the wall intercom, "Phlox to Security! Intruder alert! I repeat, intruder alert! Something is attacking Commander T'Pol!"

He let go of the intercom and turned back to the lab. "Roger! We're on our way!" came the answer in his back. But he wasn't paying attention. A loud crash had just reverberated down the corridor. More muffled screams, something hit the wall so hard the wall shook. He was surprised it held. The shock would have been deathly for a Human, damaging for a Vulcan.

There was no choice. He keyed in the override mechanism and rushed inside, yelling, "Hold on, Commander! I'm coming!" Hopefully that would distract her attacker, gain her some time. Perhaps the attached would turn on Phlox instead. At least T'Pol would be spared further abuse.

Phlox stared in horrified shock at the scene in front of him. He saw it happening again, as if in slow motion. "No, no! stop it!" He ran to intercept.

And then he was flying across the room, rolling over a desk, before crashing against the far wall, dazed. He slid to the floor in a heap , stunned by the shock.

Two security men were at the door, phasers drawn. They rushed inside. "No! No! Go back!" Phlox shouted, but they didn't hear him.

xxx

** _Reed_ **

His men had followed protocol, rousing him from a deep sleep. An intruder alert was a class-five security incident. Reed was hurrying through the corridors, he wasn't more than a a couple of minutes behind.

He'd had a hunch ever since that scene on the bridge, when T'Pol didn't seem like herself. The Captain should have asked him to walk T'Pol to her lab, not Travis. What did an ensign know, especially a pilot ensign, someone whose entire blood didn't sing security. But Archer was the captain and Travis was the one who walked T'Pol to her lab. And he was a newbie. He led his commanding officer straight into a dangerous situation without even realizing it.

Reed quickly turned the corner. Captain Archer must be right behind him, also alerted by the class-five event. The thought that perhaps the Captain would get to the site before him spurred him on. He started running.

He was almost at the lab. He heard a running footstep arriving from the corridor on his right and looked up to nod at Archer. They both stopped, about thirty feet away. The door to the lab was open, one of his security men was jammed in the opening, preventing it from closing. And he was unconscious. Or worse.

Reed had his phaser in hand before he even thought about it. Reed took slow and steady side steps towards the door. Archer reached the doorframe first, tried to peek in. He couldn't see what was going on inside. Reed raised his phaser with both hands, nodding at Archer for the 'go' signal. But Archer stayed him with a hand. From where he was, Reed could see Phlox hunched against the wall. The doctor was staring at something on the far side, not losing sight of whatever it was that was attacking T'Pol, but he saw Malcolm. He slowly got to his knees and stayed in a crouching position, ready to move.

Before Reed even had a chance, Archer launched himself into the room. Reed swore and ran in right after him. And froze.

There was nobody else in the room other than T'Pol, but there was blood all over the place. On the walls, on her desk. Her face and hands were covered with green blood, giving her a ghoulish appearance. Reed hesitated. Archer crossed over to T'Pol, asking if she was okay. Phlox yelled, "No!" and Reed wondered if he was talking to the Captain or to T'Pol. He glanced back at the doctor and something hit him in the back, hard, flattening him and knocking the wind our of him. He found himself on the floor, with a heay weight on his back. The intruder must have been hiding from sight and had just jumped him!

He rolled over on his back, ready to chop at the guy on top of him, stayed his fist with a jolt of surprise. It was the Captain that had knocked him down. Archer was blinking rapidly, trying to regain his thoughts, obviously in pain. Reed pushed him away and Archer screamed.

But Reed didn't have time to feel bad for it. He wasn't getting it. T'Pol was alone against the wall, looking at him but not seeing him. Did she attack the Captain? Reed looked around the room, at the four Enteprise crewmen in various stages of hurt or consciousness, then looked at her again, uncomprehendingly. When she saw he wasn't coming directly to her, T'Pol turned around and stepped back a couple of steps from the wall.

And then she rammed her head against it with all her strength. The wall shook. "T'Pol! No!" Phlox shouted. He turned to Reed, "You have to stop her! She's going to kill herself!" Reed was aghast. Archer staggered up. T'Pol took a couple more steps away from the wall.

Training took over. Reed raised his phaser, shoved Archer out of the way. The Captain screamed again. Reed shrugged apologetically, "Sorry..." T'Pol turned to them, making sure they were not interfering. Then she lunged full-force at the wall. Reed fired. She fell like a lead weight.

The silence was broken by Phlox rushing to the intercom past the two downed security men. "I need a medvac, stat! Restraints and life support systems!" And then he bent over T'Pol, working feverishly.

Reed extended a hand to Archer who took it with a grimace of pain. He pulled and the Captain got up to his feet, awkwardly, one arm limp against his side.

"You're hurt?" Reed asked, aware the answer was somewhat obvious.

"A dislocated shoulder," Archer replied through gritted teeth, "I'll be fine."

Reed nodded wordlessly. One of the security men was stirring, which was a good sign. At least this one was alive. "What about the intruder?" Reed asked Archer, again aware the answer was somewhat obvious.

"There was no intruder," Phlox replied for the Captain.

Archer nodded, breathing hard. He carefully cradled his hurt arm, turned to Phlox, "What the hell happened?!"

xxx

** _Trip_ **

One second the pain was unbearable, blinding all other senses, preventing him from getting up, from moving, from breathing again. And then the next second the pain was gone. Completely gone. No pain. Nothing at all.

Trip gingerly opened his eyes, ready to close them again if this turned out to be a trick of his mind.

But it wasn't. The pain was gone. As mysteriously as it had appeared.

He slowly got to his feet, expecting some vestigial pain, some feeling that things were not okay. But everything was fine. There was no pain, no dizziness, nothing at all. Phlox must have gotten to T'Pol, taken care of whatever was ailing her.

There was only on thing left to do. Go to Sickbay.


	9. Stasis

** _Sickbay_ **

Trip barged into Sickbay at a run. And stopped mid-stride. The place was jumping. Captain Archer was sitting on a biobed, the top of his uniform off, his shoulder being carefully bandaged by an orderly. Reed was standing nearby, somberly looking at the two security men being treated on biobeds. There was no sign of Phlox or T'Pol. He scanned around and quickly spotted the activity around the isolation unit. He hurried there.

The curtain was not closed fully and he slipped in. His breath caught at the sight of the gold stasis envelope surrounding the biobed. Phlox heard him and half-turned around. He nodded at the two medics who were setting up the life support equipment and walked over to him.  
"What's going on?!" Trip couldn't tear his eyes away from T'Pol. Her entire head was bandaged, and most of her face. What he could see was swollen to where it was hard to recognize her. His breath caught again, "What happened?!"

Phlox steered him outside of the isolation unit. "She's okay now, she's in a coma." The Denobulan doctor was somber, a rare event. Trip's heart started to beat faster. "I am keeping her in a coma, a very deep coma. Until we can figure out what happened," Phlox added.

"But her head, her face..." Trip said.

"That's just cosmetic, surface wounds," Phlox replied, "there's a fair level of concussion but the coma will take care of that. We got to her in time. Thanks to you." He looked at Trip suspiciously, "And how are you doing?" All the medics are busy, I was coming to you next."

"I'm fine, perfectly fine," Trip answered, "The pain disappeared all of a sudden and it was like it'd never been there before."

Phlox nodded appraisingly, "It must have been when we triggered the coma." He looked at Trip again, "How did you know she was in trouble?"

"It was this pain, in my head," Trip said, "Unbearable. But somehow I knew it wasn't me, that it came from her..." He paused, "Who did that to her?"

Phlox glanced sideways at the isolation unit, looked down at the floor at his feet, then back at Trip, "Nobody." Seeing Trip's shocked expression he went on quickly, "There was no intruder. She... she did that to herself."

"What, but-" Trip passed a hand over his chin and mouth. He just couldn't believe it.

"There is nothing wrong with her physiologically, nothing I can see. I have to run tests...," Phlox's voice trailed, he looked at Trip uncertainly, "... no sign of brain tumor - has she been exhibiting any unusual behaviors lately?"

Trip's mouth worked silently a couple of times. The question floored him. "No...," he shook his head, "No... There's been nothing unusual... other than the headaches," he suddenly looked up, "but she's been seeing you for that."

Phlox nodded, "Ah, yes, the headaches. How long again?"

"They started a couple of days ago," Trip was thinking, trying to nail a date, "Right after we found the wrecked ship."

"Right after the wrecked ship..." Phlox repeated, reminded of the conversation he'd had with Hoshi. He looked back towards where Lieutenant Reed was. "Come with me, I have some questions for all of you."

Trip turned to the isolation room, trying to catch a glimpse of T'Pol. "There's nothing you can do here," Phlox gently said, "She's in stasis, she won't even know you're there. I've put her at a level of coma that suppresses all brain activity. Of any sort. That would include the bond. That's why the pain went away," he added.

Trip reluctantly followed him to where Archer was putting his uniform back on, the medic carefully setting a sling for his arm. Reed joined them. Phlox looked at all three of them. "Gentlemen, have any of you experienced any... hmmm... unusual feelings since you came back from the wrecked ship?" he asked.

The men looked blankly back at him. "Perhaps more like visions, hmmm?" Phlox prompted, looking pointedly at Reed.

Reed flushed, shuffled nervously, "Well, I've had... some strange daydreams..."

Phlox nodded in agreement, "Anyone else?"

He was looking at Archer, but the Captain shook his head 'no'. "What are you getting at?" Archer asked in turn.

"Lieutenant Reed has had strange daydreams, I had a very unusual daydream myself yesterday," Phlox replied, "and Commander T'Pol has been in Sickbay daily for headaches." He paused, "There could be a connection there."

"You forgot Trip," Archer said.

"It seems Commander Tucker was affected through the bond he has with Commander T'Pol," Phlox replied, "so, no, he wouldn't be part of the chain."

"Chain? As in a virus?" Archer asked.

"At this point I'm considering all probabilities," Phlox replied. "T'Pol is in stasis, so there are no concerns about potential contamination."

"But then why did T'Pol end up in Sickbay but not you or Reed ?," Archer asked.

"T'Pol is the only Vulcan on board. It could be that Vulcans are differently affected," Phlox replied, "As I said, Captain, I have more questions than answers at this point. Now, if you will leave Sickbay, I have work to do. I believe the three of you are needed at your stations, hmmm?"  
There was little they could do but file out slowly.

xxx

** _It_ **

It didn't understand. It shouldn't have ended this way. It should all have gone smoothly. Once It had successfully entered the host, It should have been able to influence the host's thoughts, set it on the path to bring It back to the Realm of the Unassigned.

It shouldn't have happened that way. Of course a host was not a symbiot. A symbiot was an animalistic life organism, a physical form with rudimentary feelings. Until a gediod joined with it, the two together morphed into a complete sentient being, able to articulate the intrinsic qualities of the gediod. That could not happen with a host.

Still, joined with a host, It should be able to influence the host's feelings and actions, and the feelings and actions of those around it. With the single goal of bringing It quickly back to the Realm of the Unassigned.

But that didn't work with this host. As soon as It was comfortably ensconced where It could direct the host's thoughts and feelings, It found itself at war, the host intent on destroying It. It was a warrior spirit, and fighting was what It knew how to do better than anything else. But instead of a straight-on attack on It, the host had tried to destroy itself instead! This was not the kind of fight It knew how to wage. There was no fight tower, no majestic beings soaring up on air drifts. It had been physically coarse, brutal, with It lying there helplessly, unable to control the host's actions. Thankfully the host didn't have a beak.

Even then, it would eventually have succeeded but for the intervention of the transports. It had recognized the weapons that felled the host from seeing them through the first transport's eyes. It knew from seeing the medical information through the second transport's eyes that the effect was temporary and the host would regain consciousness. It was not about to leave the host when It had worked so hard to find it. It stuck to the host through the trip back to Sickbay, through the medical care.

Until it was too late and the host was ensconced in a stasis field. And It realized It could not go anywhere else.

So It waited.

Eventually, something would happen. The host would be taken out of stasis, transports would be nearby, that could bring It to another, better, host. It had plenty of experience in waiting.

It waited.

xxx


	10. Yuris

xxx

** _Phlox_ **

Phlox abruptly got up from his chair, stretching every muscle on his back. he'd been hunched over his terminal for most of the delta shift. And he was no closer to an answer. He walked over to the isolation unit, checked T'Pol's vitals once again, hoping that something would jump up and wave at him. But there was nothing there, just the hum of the life support equipment, the shimmering of the stasis field.

He could only go through the field with an isolation suit, which he wasn't wearing, so he stood staring at the supine form. If only she could come out of her coma, tell him what was wrong. And he knew for certain something was wrong. He mentally went through all the conditions he knew about that could turn a Vulcan into a raging homicidal lunatic. This was not Pon Farr, it was not Pa'nar, it was not Trellium. All physiological systems were A-Okay, exactly as they should be for a Vulcan, she shouldn't even be on a biobed.

He heard the Sickbay doors swish open behind him, turned to see Hoshi walk in, clad in a simple robe, her hair hanging loosely around her. He glanced at the chron. 0236. She should be fast asleep. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked by way of a greeting.

Hoshi walked over to where he was, shaking her head, "Malcolm told me about what happened. He says it had something to do with the distress call, the wrecked ship?"

Phlox turned around, walked towards the medical database computer, "We've had several unusual events since we found the wrecked ship, involving Lieutenant Reed, myself and Commander T'Pol. It could be related, or it could be happenstance." He looked at Hoshi, "You were also unusually stressed about Lieutenant Reed's visions, if I remember..."

Hoshi nodded, blushing. "I thought he was possessed by a yurei… a ghost. It's a Japanese thing. Then once I was here I realized how crazy it was."

"... possessed by a yurei...," Phlox was looking at her without seeing her.

Hoshi stared closely at him, "You don't really think so, do you?" She paled at the thought.

Phlox looked back towards the isolation unit, "No, of course not, but... there are many things we don't know about space. I would say the amount of what we know is dwarfed by the mass of our ignorance, hmm?" He decided to change the subject, "And you came to Sickbay in the middle of the night because...?"

Hoshi squirmed, "If I hadn't picked up the distress signal..." She didn't finish.

"And somehow this makes all of this your fault, hmm?" Phlox finished the thought for her. His voice went up in protest, "First of all, we don't know that these events are related, secondly, you were not the one who diverted the ship. And the person who actually did is not harboring any feelings of guilt. You know why? Because that is our mission, to explore space. Sometimes, in the process of performing our mission, adverse events occur. A lot of times," Phlox grinned, "I don't need to remind you how many times, do I?"

Hoshi chuckled at the thought," It's true, more often than not... Actually, almost every time." She looked at Phlox, a shadow of a smile on her face, "I guess that means this is about average, then," she teased.

Phlox beamed in return, "Exactly! In some circumstances, average is optimal. Imagine what catastrophes would befall us if we were all performing above average." They both laughed softly at the joke.

"Thank you, doctor," her smile was wide.

"Anytime, Hoshi," Phlox grinned in return, "Now go back to your quarters and get a well deserved rest. We need you in top shape tomorrow. For another average day."

Hoshi guffawed as she left.

Once the doors closed on her, Phlox stopped grinning. He turned back to look at the isolation unit with a frown. Hoshi had sparked a thought. As Master Xiveen had patiently taught him all those years ago, no self-respecting doctor would ever dismiss an eventuality on the belief it wasn't possible.

It took him only a couple of steps to reach the Interspecies Medical Exchange database. He was soon engrossed in documentary research.

xxx

** _Trip_ **

Trip tossed in his bed, throwing the covers half off. That didn't wake him up. He was in the throes of a nightmare. T'Pol was in trouble.

_There were three officials, intent on exerting punishment. Two men and one woman. He wasn't sure what the infraction was, nobody mentioned it. They'd already punished Archer, taken one of his eyes out. Now they wanted to punish T'Pol, take out one of her eyes. Medical science made that possible. But they couldn't find her. Everyone on the ship was sending them to areas of the ship where she wasn't. Time was running out. They were closing in on her. Trip was rushing, there was something in Vulcan regulations that would prevent it. He didn't know what it was. He arrived on the scene just as they were grabbing T'Pol. He was waving a ream of papers, the regulations that forbade physical punishment of a Vulcan citizen under Federation laws. The envoys hesitated, unsure what to do. He repeated, "It's the Constitution, it's the Constitution!" There was nothing they could do. They left. Trip watched them leave. There was an opportunity to run them over right outside of the building. Would he?_

Trip woke up with a start, his heart pounding. What the heck was that?! The memory of the dream was already disappearing, leaving vague thoughts except for that bit about T'Pol's eyes. Did it mean anything? Was it a subliminal message from T'Pol? He couldn't feel the bond. He couldn't feel anything. The area inside his head that felt warm and tingly was completely blank. He couldn't even tell where it used to be.

He rolled over. Silly nightmare. He didn't think it was a vision. Still, he'd mention it to Phlox in the morning, just in case. He fell back into a slumber.

xxx

** _Phlox_ **

Phlox looked up from the screen. He'd lost track of how much time he'd been reading through, looking for any signs, any information. The International Exchange Database was as complete as its members made it. Of course, the chapters on Vulcans were incredibly detailed. So detailed that most wouldn't even start to notice how much information was missing. They sure knew how to keep a tight hand on any point of vulnerability. The chapter on Vulcan neurology was as detailed as anything he'd ever seen. Except for anything having to do with telepathic function or emotional shields, besides the obvious. And of course that's what he needed to know. He knew the excuse Vulcan would provide if he raised the issue through proper channels - why talk about something that non-telepaths couldn't hope to understand?

Phlox snorted. He extended a hand to the intercom, "Dr. Phlox here, I need to get in touch with Dr. Yuris,"

"Dr. Yuris?"came the delta shift voice over the com, "One minute doctor,"

Phlox did a double-take, "Is that you, Hoshi?"

"Yes, sir."

"You are taking calls from your quarters now?" Phlox asked, knowing full well the answer.

Hoshi had the good grace to seem embarrassed. She giggled lightly, "Well, since I couldn't sleep, I figured I would go to the bridge, see if the communications relief needed help..."

"Hmmm," Phlox said with the intonation of a 'Harumph!', "I thought we agreed on the need for rest?"

"I am tracing Dr. Yuris's location, doctor," Hoshi smoothly diverted, "I will com you when I have made contact."

"Very well." Phlox went back to his medical computer. Thank the Denobulan universe that he knew one doctor who would actually talk to him about Vulcan things.

Finally the intercom chirped, "I am patching you through, Doctor," came Hoshi's voice.

Phlox looked in surprise as a handsome woman appeared on the screen, silver and pepper medium-length hair, engaging eyes. He felt a sudden twinge of jealousy that he would forever be barred from the intimacy of a mindmeld. With anyone. "Is Dr. Yuris available?" he asked.

"I am T'Pren, Dr. Yuris's wife," she replied. "He is currently in a high meditation cycle."

"Apologies, madam, I am Dr. Phlox of the Starship Enterprise," Phlox introduced himself, feeling like a boor for having neglected to do so. "I need to talk to Dr. Yuris about a subject of some sensitivity."

"Of course, Doctor Phlox. I am aware of your interactions with he-who-is-my-husband," T'Pren responded. She walked away, leaving Phlox to wonder if that was the end of it. His question was answered a couple of minutes later when Dr. Yuris's face appeared on the screen. Phlox could tell he had been roused from a deep meditation. His co-workers would be dealing with a rather prickly doctor that day. At least as far as Vulcans went.

"How may I be of assistance?" Dr. Yuris asked. Phlox nodded in approval. There was no time for social niceties. He related the events of the past days, the induced coma and stasis. Dr. Yuris's eyebrows raised and lowered as he talked.

"So that's where we are now..." Phlox finally said.

Dr. Yuris remained silent, intently focused. His eyebrows were down, "If I understand the situation, doctor, I do not believe what you describe is related to the Pa'nar syndrome or other deterioration of the neural pathways. Even when degradation of the psi laddering leads the patient to homicidal rage, such rage is expressed against others, not against the self."

Phlox nodded. He certainly remembered the Seleya and what happened in the Expanse. "Then what could it be?" he asked, "As you know, we cannot measure the functioning of the psi laddering, not in terms of its telepathic expression..."

Dr. Yuris's expression shifted infinitesimally and Phlox had the sudden feeling he was on the verge of a new discovery about Vulcans. "There is..." Yuris started slowly, "... a hard-wired mechanism in Vulcans..." He hesitated, "... it is not so much hard-wired as more of an existential impossibility..." Phlox nodded vigorously, hoping to hurry Yuris along. But the doctor had stopped talking. He finally looked up at Phlox, "I cannot explain it in words. A Vulcan healer could check the psi functioning and confirm whether what I think is happening. It is not unheard of, there are sectors of space in which Vulcans will not venture, for this exact reason."

"What reason?!" Phlox was as confused as ever, and feeling frustrated with the lack of progress.

Dr. Yuris steepled his fingers as if to give himself a stable base to speak from, "The psi laddering system may not have the metabolic qualities usually associated with organic cells, but it does form a living structure and thus may be invaded by external agents."

"You mean a virus?!" Phlox exclaimed.

Yuris gave a slight movement of the hand as if to swipe away an annoying insect, "Viruses can affect the psi laddering. For a long time we thought the Pa'nar syndrome was virus-based," he reminded Phlox, "but... it is difficult to explain without a common frame of reference..." Phlox frowned. Hopefully Yuris was not going to pull the 'I can't talk to you about it because you're not a telepath' bit.

But the Vulcan doctor didn't, "... there are agents... I am talking about agents with a degree of sentience. High enough to use the host psi laddering as an extension of their own consciousness."

"Like a parasite?" Phlox asked.

"A sentient parasite," Yuris stressed.

"... a sentient telepathic parasite who hijacks the host psi laddering for itself..." Phlox was starting to connect the dots. Which made him queasy.

Dr. Yuris nodded, "That is the case for most hosts," Yuris explained further, "but Vulcan physiology is intertwined with the psi laddering. Vulcan life is extremely dependent on telepathic abilities. If these are compromised, life is compromised."

"But her physiological systems are fine," Phlox pointed out. He didn't understand.

Yuris looked downward, "That is the reason for the hard-wired mechanism I mentioned. The victim of a telepathic parasite will self-destruct by any means possible in order to prevent the parasite from spreading."

Phlox stared at Yuris in horrified understanding, "So it was her."

Yuris inclined his head. "It was. As I said, only a Vulcan healer can tell if she was … is the victim of a parasitic attack. And if there is hope. Unless the parasite can be destroyed without destroying the psi laddering..."

Phlxo swallowed hard, "... which is intertwined with Vulcan physiology..." He'd just understood.

"... the victim will not survive." Yuris inclined his head again, "I am sorry, doctor. There is nothing else I can offer you at this time."

xxx


	11. It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: This is a short transition chapter.  
> The idea for this story came from a bout with the common cold, which set me to wondering about whether there was such a thing as telepathic viruses. The thought dovetailed with more ancient metaphysical considerations and it all came together in this story. Hope you continue to enjoy it.

xxx

** _Captain's Ready Room_ **

"Did he say where we can find a Vulcan healer?" Captain Archer looked over at Phlox, who was seating across from him in his ready room.

Trip was on the other sofa, frowning. The doctor had just briefed them on his conversation with Dr. Yuris. Trip didn't believe it. Dr. Yuris was light years away on Vulcan, how could he know what was happening. He had to be wrong. Though the thought of a Vulcan healer had merit. A Vulcan healer would be able to heal T'Pol. Which means they had to find a Vulcan healer. By any means necessary. He turned to the Captain, "If you remember P'Jem -" Archer shot him a dark glance, of course he did, who wouldn't, "- that was one monastery in one quadrant of space," Trip went on. "I have a feeling there are other monasteries like that around," he didn't mention that it was a feeling born out of extended experience with a Vulcan mate, on that part at least Yuris didn't lie, Vulcan physiology was exquisitely tied to their telepathic structure, what Phlox called the psi laddering. "I'll go check the Vulcan databases," he offered, getting off the couch.

"Wait!" Archer stopped him. He turned to Phlox, "Isn't Yuris a Vulcan healer? Why can't he come to Enterprise himself?"

Trip refrained from rolling his eyes. Dr. Yuris making house calls... what was Jon thinking.

Phlox looked from one man to the other, inwardly wondering what it was that made the Human race so supremely arrogant that they always viewed the universe with themselves in the center. "We have to consider," he started, thinking how T'Pol would skewer the men with rapier-sharp logic, "that we are off in the Zeta Khap IV quadrant, it would take several weeks for Dr. Yuris to come to Enterprise, hmm? I don't know that we have several weeks ahead of us. Even if we did," " he paused, that was the first part of the answer. now for the clincher, "Dr. Yuris is a Vulcan medical doctor, not a Vulcan healer." He looked at Trip, knowing the engineer would understand, on account of his experience with the bond, "Vulcan healers are a very different category of doctors. Actually, come to think of it, they are not physicians, not in the strictest sense."

Archer looked at him blankly, but Trip was nodding slowly in understanding. He turned to the Captain, "Permission to check the Vulcan databases, sir?"

"Go ahead," Archer waved him away. He couldn't claim he understood what Phlox was talking about, but if it made sense to Trip...

xxx

** _Sickbay_ **

She was so white, she could have been a statue. It was hard to tell if she was alive. The shimmering of the stasis field prevented from seeing the rise and fall of her chest, let him know she was still breathing. Trip looked at the medical screen above the biobed, reassuring himself of the steady heartbeat.

"Dr. Yuris prescribed the life support levels," a voice in his back said.

Trip almost jumped. He hadn't heard Phlox come in. He turned to the doctor, swallowed nervously, "Can she hear anything?"

Phlox shook his head, "Everything is suppressed, levels are set at the minimal level necessary to maintain life. Anything higher and it might provide energy to the telepathic parasite. If I could assess her psi functions, I might be able to raise her level of awareness... but I can't," he seemed bent with the weight of defeat. "Did you find a monastery?" he asked.

Trip nodded, "The Y'lah'Ru monastery is at the edge of the next sector. We should get there within two to three days. There's nothing in this quadrant," he added.

Phlox nodded, "Dr. Yuris did seem to hint that there are sectors of space that Vulcans actually avoid. I never thought about it. I always assume that was because they didn't find anything interesting there."

"Yes, they do have a much more extensive exploration history than us..." Trip said. He shook his head, "I just can't imagine. A telepathic parasite... I don't even know what it must feel like."

Phlox was eyeing him quizzically.

"What is it?" Trip asked.

"Have you had any unusual... visions... or any other manifestation since the incident?" Phlox asked.

"No," Trip shook his head, "No..." that reminded him, "wait... I did! I had a nightmare, about someone trying to steal one of her eyes. Vulcan constitution prevented it, their laws and regulations." He looked at Phlox, "But that was a nightmare, I was sleeping, it can't have been related...?" the hesitancy in his voice asked for confirmation.

"No... I don't think so," Phlox was hesitant in turn.

Trip would have liked a more resounding affirmation, "D'you think it means 'nything?" His brogue thickened, as it tended to do in times of stress.

Phlox sighed. "I wish I had any sense of how a bond works, or the telepathic exchange that accompanies it. At the most elemental level, Human cultures often refer to psi abilities as a third eye, and in a manner of speaking, Vulcan constitution prevents anyone from encroaching on their telepathic abilities. Vulcan constitution as in physiology, not rules and regulations. Though..." Phlox was getting excited, thinking back to his conversation with Yuris, "it seems it may be a hard-wired cultural taboo more than a physical reaction."

"Perhaps it was a subliminal message from T'Pol," Trip interjected. The thought lifted his spirits. She may still be trying to communicate with him, even if she was in a coma.

"Or perhaps it was your subconscious," Phlox eyed him keenly, "Dreams are more likely to express unconscious thoughts. Anything else? Anything unusual?"

Trip shook his head, "No nothing. Just keeping the engines together. Actually, I need to go back down to Engineering, we're going to be going at warp five for quite a while."

"Good day, Commander. And give my best to Lieutenant Hess." Phlox turned back towards his patient. Trip took another long look at her. The bruises were receding, and the swelling. She almost looked like herself again. Another day, and she would seem to be sleeping peacefully.

xxx

** _It_ **

It couldn't move. The stasis field prevented any hoped for rescue from its current position. It had thought that the host would eventually wake up from the effect of the phaser stun or that the stasis field would be released and It could continue with its mission, but the host was not waking up, the stasis field was not released, and It was locked in place. In a ship full of transports, no less.

And then there was the almost-host. If the host was not compatible, It would find its way to the almost-host. Unfortunately, not while It was kept in place by a stasis field.

But then luck had smiled on It, and the almost-host had come by. Twice. It made its task much easier. It didn't have to influence the energy patterns into making the almost-host come to It. Instead It would spend all its energies influencing the almost-host into releasing the stasis field during a visit. The window was narrow and the influence would have to be incrementally built over a long period of time, but It was confident It could do it.

xxx


	12. The Vulcan Healers

xxx

** _Captain's Ready Room_ **

"Understood, Archer out." Archer cut off the com. The silence was thick in the room.

Once they'd made contact with the monastery, he expected the healers to be ready and eager to jump in and help. He checked his thoughts - eager, yeah, if a Vulcan could ever be eager. Though he'd seen T'Pol tense with suppressed excitement and they could be just as eager as the next guy... It was the 'jump in and help', that was the issue... When would he ever learn that Vulcans never jumped in to help, never. Like that ice-cold bastard Vanik on the T'Muir... Though he did help in the end... Or Soval... Except the Ambassador had helped, from behind the scenes... And T'Pol was always ready to jump in and help... Perhaps he was being unfair. He frowned. Of course he was being unfair. But Vulcans had not been that eager to help his father, so in the end he wasn't wrong.

He turned to the others, each mulling what they'd just heard the Vulcan elder say. "What d'you make of it?" he asked.

"They're scared..." Reed replied.

Archer looked at Phlox, "Do you agree?"

"Considering what will happen to them if it is a telepathic parasite that can't be contained, the reluctance is understandable," Phlox said slowly.

"So we're on our own?"

"Not quite, Captain," the doctor hastened to add, "all the head of the monastery said was that T'Pol cannot be brought down to the surface." He paused, "Which is just as well from a medical perspective. She said they would be in contact again when we reach orbit. That doesn't mean they won't help."

"Glad that's how you understand it, Phlox," Archer cut in, "but I'm not so sure. I agree with Reed they're scared, and you said yourself they have every right to be. They may decline. What d'you think, Trip?" They still hadn't heard from the engineer.

"I say we wait until we reach orbit," Trip replied, "see what they have to say. We're only a few hours away. For all we know they're pulling short straws down in the monastery, see the lucky fellow who's going to come. And nothing says it's a telepathic parasite anyway, so they'll want to check."

Actually, the more time passed, the more Trip was convinced there was no telepathic parasite. This was just much ado about nothing, if they'd let T'Pol wake up, she'd be fine. But that was not something he could voice in public, not with Phlox listening.

xxx

** _It_ **

It shimmered softly in excitement. The almost-host was back, not for the first time. It was focusing the whole of its energy on getting him to release the stasis field, and every encounter helped. Once the almost-host released the field, It would jump and have him bring It back to the Realm of the Unassigned.

It was one thing to manipulate the ambient energy to facilitate events, another thing entirely to have one lifeform take a specific action. The buildup was incremental, layer after layer of similarly-charged energy particles until internal tension reached a paroxysm, to be released into specific action. Unless it was brutally interrupted before the point of manifestation.

And there were still unresolved questions about the almost-host. A host would see It, right under the field, no longer hidden within the host, but the almost-host didn't seem aware of It's presence. There was no way of telling whether It could direct him as It would a host.  
It could not be distracted by unhelpful thoughts. It poured all its energy into modulating the energy fields towards the point of manifestation, pulsating in rhythm with the shimmering of the stasis field.

xxx

** _Sickbay_ **

Trip stared at T'Pol. The bandages on her head were off, there was just the shadows of bruises, some healing cuts. She looked perfectly fine. For some reason, he really felt she'd be okay once she woke up. But Phlox wasn't entertaining that possibility, wouldn't even consider a trial run. That made no sense. They'd all decided it was some kind of telepathic invader, and with no proof, at that - pah! The stuff of cheap science fiction.

He wished her awake with all his strength. He started groping around in his head for the place where he used to feel the bond. Perhaps he could reach back out to her through the bond, if he could find it, wake her up. Like the prince kissing Sleeping Beauty... The thought made him smile. He'd have to tell her the story when she woke up.

The shimmering of the stasis field was a reminder that he couldn't touch her, couldn't try to make her feel better. He checked where the energy source for the stasis field was. Not that he'd ever cared to know before but he was the chief engineer for Enterprise, that's the kind of stuff it was his duty to know.

The thought came to him that it would be an easy reach to shut off that energy supply. A couple of steps, disconnect the junction. He looked around. He was alone in the isolation room, there was nobody around.

Still, he couldn't do that. It was too much of a gamble, he wasn't a doctor after all.

Even if he felt he knew better than the doctors on this point. She was his wife after all. They were bonded.

He looked again at the power supply. Shook himself as if coming out of a dream. He was needed in Engineering.

He snuck out of Sickbay with the demeanor of those with a guilty conscience.

xxx

** _Enterprise_ **

"I am Captain Archer. Welcome aboard," Archer gave the ta'al, inwardly taking great pleasure into the minute reaction of stupefaction from the Vulcans at his perfection of the form. One didn't house Surak in one's head for days and not have something to show for it.

The small Vulcan in the center stepped forward, pushing back her hood, and the other two followed suit. Archer recognized the woman they'd first made contact with, the elder of the Y'lah'Ru monastery. If the elder herself came, it was a sign of the gravity of the situation. That didn't make him feel better.

She returned the ta'al, "I am Healer E'Shara," she said, "and these are my accolytes, Healer Yadur and Healer Smirak." The men inclined their head in turn as their name was called.

"This is Doctor Phlox," Archer introduced his staff in turn, "You have already met Ensign Mayweather and Lieutenant Reed." Travis had piloted the shuttle and Reed had gone along to make sure there were no Orions hiding behind the doors of the monastery this time.  
The Vulcan elder coked her head towards Phlox. "Thee are a healer?"

"I am a Denobulan doctor, m'am," Phlox answered genially, "with degrees in Interspecies Veterinary Medicine, dentistry, hematology, botanical pharmacology, and psychiatry, but unfortunately without any telepathic abilities."

"Dr. Phlox asked that the hallways to Sickbay be cleared, to lessen the telepathic burden on you," Archer cut in, wanting to put his best foot forward for the Vulcan healers.

"Unnecessary," was the curt reply. The elder seemed to sense the awkwardness that her remarks induced. "We are shielding each other," she added, "the emotions of the crew will not be a disturbance."

'We'll have to see about that once you meet Trip,' Archer thought, but kept it to himself. Phlox didn't want to spook the Vulcan healers more than they already were by having to face two potential sources of infection. E'Shara threw him a sharp glance and he suddenly found himself wondering exactly how telepathic the healers were. Fortunate that Vulcan telepathic abilities were shrouded in strict rules of privacy.

"If you would follow me to Sickbay," Phlox looked meaningfully at Archer. He was the one who thought it better to keep Trip away from the healers until they saw T'Pol. Even if Trip was showing no signs of infection. What seemed eminently rational to psi-blind Humans may not come across quite the same way to the Vulcans.

"That is where the infected individual is?" Yadur asked.

Archer got a sense he'd rather be anywhere than on Enterprise. He glared at him, "Her name is T'Pol."

He almost added 'Commander T'Pol' but stopped himself just in time. That was a Starfleet title. The healers would know she'd thrown in her lot with the Humans. It was on a par with the bond with Trip, something better left unsaid until they had fully committed to helping. At this point, they were simply coming to assess the situation. Give them the shadow of an excuse and they would cut loose. Even if their coming in force seemed to indicate they would help. Reed was right, they were definitely scared. Like cats approaching water.

And yet part of him couldn't blame them, given what would happen if they were infected.

xxx

** _It_ **

It had become a firework of pulsating gyrations, It could hardly contain itself. It had felt the hosts as soon as they set foot on Enterprise. Three hosts, no less. Plus the one he had joined. And the almost-host. It would find its way to the Realm, that was more and more certain.

It ensconced itself in the host again, invisible under the shimmering field. It may be that events were turning in its favor, but It was not going to wait passively. If the hosts were nearby, It could have its choice of jumping to the almost-host or to one of them.

It started shifting the surrounding energy particles into bringing the hosts to It. That would not unduly delay its influence on the almost-host. He was close to the point where he would release the stasis field.

xxx


	13. Coming Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lag between chapters. Am having some issues with the next scene. Waiting for inspiration to strike. Eventually...

xxx

** _Reed_ **

Reed hung back as the three Vulcan healers started down the corridor with the Captain and Phlox. Once they were out of Vulcan earshot, he strode to the wall intercom.

"Reed to Security!"

"Aye, Sir," a voice answered. That was Lanvins.

"Lanvins! Get me another four security men in Sickbay! Stat!"

"Inside or outside, sir?"

That was a good question. He'd already stationed two armed guards outside Sickbay. Officially to reassure the Vulcan healer that there was protection available. Unofficially because they needed to be ready in case the parasite took over the healer. He had two men still on the injured list after their encounter with T'Pol.

They'd prepared for a single healer. Now there were three. He could only imagine the wreckage three possessed Vulcans could bring to Sickbay. And to his men. "Inside! Position them around the insulation room. One at each corner. You have twenty seconds!" It would take at least twice that long for the healers to get there. Archer would make sure of that.

"Aye, sir!"

Reed released the wallcom. There was no going back to the bridge for him. Not when there may be an intruder on board. He'd follow unseen, kind of a rear guard. Anything funny happen, and he'd be right on top of it. He rested his hand on the handle of his phaser.

xxx

** _It_ **

The hosts were coming! The hosts were coming!

It could sense the increase in the energy field. Soon the hosts would be with It. It had been summoning them with all its strength.

But having the hosts come to It was not enough. With the stasis field active It couldn't jump to another host. Or to any other transport, for that matter. Releasing the stasis field was the next order of priority. And for that It needed the almost-host.

Because if the hosts weren't going to do it on their own, it would take too long to influence them to release the field. But the almost-host was close to the point of inflection and it would take little energy to get him to complete the act.

The solution was clear. It switched focus, rearranging the energy fields to summon the almost-host and guide him back to It. Once the hosts and almost-host were both there, It could decide on the best course of action.

xxx

** _Trip_ **

Trip turned to Hess, "D'you check th'flux intake valves?"

"Yup!" she replied, before going into detail about what she found. But Trip was no longer listening.

The thought had just come to him that Vulcan healers were coming aboard to cure his wife and he had been barred from being there, relegated to Engineering as if somehow there was something wrong with him. With T'Pol and him. With their bond.

And he wasn't liking it one bit.

Forget Phlox's excuse that he didn't want the healers to be spooked, that they were afraid the Vulcans would run away if whatever was ailing T'Pol turned out to a telepathic parasite. It wasn't a telepathic parasite. He just knew it. He didnt know how but he knew it. They were just being paranoid, being overly careful. The Vulcans would figure it out and take care of T'Pol.

And he wouldn't be there.

There was only one thing he could do. T'Pol'd have agreed t'was the only logical thing to do. He realized Hess had stopped talking, was looking at him quizzically. Probably waiting for a reaction..

"Sounds good, let's put them on the next full inspection schedule," he said, because if there'd been anything really wrong with the valves Hess would've been jumping up and down waving her arms about it, so he could focus on it later. "Listen, I've got to go to Sickbay, make sure th'Vulcan healers're taking care of T'Pol th'right way. Ya take over."

"Aye, chief!" Hess was looking at him strangely, but he was already on his way out.

xxx

** _Sickbay_ **

The doors to Sickbay swooshed open and the healers walked in. They stopped as one, looking at each other. Phlox and Archer turned to them, Archer more stiffly, his shoulder still sore. "Is anything the matter?" Phlox asked.

E'Shara blinked, followed by Yadur and Smirak. "We had not expected... the... unruliness... of Human minds to be so... taxing," she replied.

Archer frowned at the implied insult but Phlox didn't pick up on it, "Are you experiencing headaches, hmm?" he asked. "T'Pol complained about intense headaches right before the incident," he explained.

E'Shara's eyes grew wider, "This is not the pressure of Human minds?" she asked.

"Possibly not," Phlox answered. "T'Pol had some complaints early but that was years ago, and she learned to manage it. The headaches suddenly reappeared a couple of days ago," he added, "right before the incident."

E'Shara nodded, "She learned to manage the pressure..." Archer got a sense she was impressed. Either that or the elder saw it as a sign that this was unusual pressure, beyond the ability for a non-healer to manage. "Where is T'Pol?" the elder asked.

"She's is in isolation, in the far corner. She's under a stasis field, there is nothing to worry about," Phlox cheerfully answered. Archer would've expected the Vulcans to go on about not worrying, but they didn't. That gave him pause.

The Vulcans followed Phlox to the corner, where the privacy curtain was hiding T'Pol. Once again, they stopped suddenly, obviously loathe to proceed.

Once again Phlox turned to them, "Is everything all right?" he asked.

"... the pressure..." E'Shara replied. She looked seasick. So did the others.

Archer watched with narrowed eyes. Whatever it was that attacked T'Pol, it was definitely giving the Vulcans the heebie jeebies. Good thing Phlox had thought about setting up a stasis field, or he was quite certain the Vulcans would have taken their heels to their necks and ran for the exit already. He wasn't sure what they were going to do, but they'd better agree to help or they'd be getting an earful. A vein in his neck thickened as he catalogued the arguments he'd make. He'd been working on this ever since they hadn't helped his dad, figuring out all the things he'd tell them, appealing to logic, shaming them, yelling at them. Young Jonathan had spent hours trying to right the wrong made to his dad, but he'd never had the opportunity to say his piece to the Vulcans, face to face. Until now. He silently dared the healers to chicken out.

But instead, Yadur and Smirak stepped between E'Shara and the privacy curtain, forming a physical barrier, before drawing their hoods over their heads, bringing their hands to their foreheads, stooped in a pose that looked like the physical manifestation of pain. E'Shara's face relaxed, her complexion lightened, her eyes shrank back to their original size.

Phlox was watching with great interest. So the other healers were her shield... He'd really like to find out what was in those robes.

The doors to Sickbay swooshed open in their back. E'Shara's eyes suddenly grew wide again. "What is it?!" Phlox asked, turning to look behind him. Archer did the same.

Trip was standing by the entrance in shocked surprise.

"What are you doing here?!" Archer barked. The engineer had been told specifically to stay away from the healers. Archer was already striding back to where Trip was, about ready to chew him out.

xxx

** _Trip_ **

Trip nodded at the security guards posted at the door, and they nodded in return. Of course they wouldn't think of stopping him, he had full access. That was his wife in there.

He scoffed inwardly as he stepped in. What the hell was Malcolm thinking about?! And Jon?! Security guards in Sickbay?! Armed, no less?! Malcolm was going off the deep end with his paranoia. They were losing their minds, the lot of them.

He looked towards the far corner and stopped in shock. There were Vulcan healers there, waiting to go in. Three of them. The female was staring at him. From their build, he could tell the other ones were male. Two men and one woman. Just like in his dream.

Out of nowhere, the thought came to him that they were coming to hurt T'Pol. Just like in his dream. They were coming to hurt T'Pol and he was the one who had to save her.

xxx


	14. Trip Redux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: Ah, but what happened to the healers? We should find out what happened to the healers in the next chapter.

xxx

** _Trip (cont'd)_ **

_Archer walked towards him, fury in his eyes and voice. "What are you doing here?!" he barked._

"She's my wife, my place is with her," Trip replied. His eyes were cold, his voice flat.

Archer took a sharp breath. That was exactly what they'd been trying to hide from the Vulcans. Doubtless the sons of bitches had heard it, too. He came almost nose to nose with Trip, "You were ordered to remain in Engineering," he said between clenched teeth.

Trip looked past Archer, at the healers, checking that they were not going into the isolation room. He needed to be at T'Pol's side before them. Phlox had said the eye in the dream represented her telepathic abilities. They would destroy them, destroy her. And he wasn't going to let them. In his dream he had stopped the three representatives because the constitution didn't allow it... The constitution.

He spoke loudly, "Under Vulcan regulations I have every right to be here. My place is at her side. She is my bondmate," he stared at the healers, daring them to challenge him on that point.

Nobody moved.

If Archer'd been alone, he'd have taken his head in his hands in frustration. There they were, three Vulcan healers on the verge of chickening out and now Trip telling them that she was bonded to a Human. It could be the straw that broke the camel's back. From past experience, Vulcan doctors were not the most progressive fellows. They'd think she was a deviant. He was certain E'Shara and the others were going to excuse themselves, turn on their heels, and leave.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

Phlox was watching the scene with great interest, trying to gauge the healers' state of mind. Keeping Trip out of sight had nothing to do with the fact he was T'Pol's bondmate. Simply he didn't want to alarm the healers about another possible source of infection. Obviously a telepathic parasite was already a stretch for the Vulcans healers. Dealing with two victims may be more than they had heart for, no matter how logically they'd frame it. Indeed, the healers were watching Trip goggled-eyed, as if a monster had just sprung out of the closet. Phlox thought he needed to say something, anything.

But Trip beat him to it. "If you'll excuse me," he coldly said to Archer, walking past him to the privacy curtain.

E'Shara took a step back as he approached, her eyes growing even wider. Phlox almost put a hand out to prevent her from darting away. Yadur and Smirak seemed to stoop even more slightly, as the strain had gone greater. That set Phlox to wondering if perhaps what was affecting T'Pol was bleeding through to Trip.

xxx

** _It_ **

It was happening.

The three hosts were in close proximity. The almost-host was there too. Their close presence was making it easier to manipulate the energy fields. It went on shrinking and expanding rhythmically, beckoning them to It.

Once they were close to It, It could finally escape the stasis field and find another host.

It started compressing itself for the jump. There had been too many times already when It had acted too slowly.

xxx

** _Trip_ **

Trip paused at the entrance to the isolation room and turned to look at the healers before slipping through the curtains. There were a couple of beats then as if some tenuous balance had shifted E'Shara went in after him, followed by Yadur and Smirak. Phlox rushed in right after, he didn't want them alone in there. Archer hurried to catch up, wondering what Trip was up to, having the feeling he'd just let a dangerous weapon loose. Behind him, the doors to Sickbay swooshed open and Reed walked in. The chief of security hesitated, taking in Archer slipping behind the curtain. He took a step then stopped. And remained where he was, phaser in hand.

Trip's heart was beating fast. He needed to protect T'Pol from the healers but they were in there with him. Everyone had trooped in after him. He looked at the biobed where she laid peacefully under the stasis field. And froze. He turned to Phlox, ignoring E'Shara and her accolytes, "What's with that?"

"What's with what?" asked Phlox.

"The respirator!"

Phlox sighed but before he could answer E'Shara spoke, "You suppressed all her psi abilities?" she asked, her tone conveying immense amounts of surprise.

Phlox nodded, "Yes, I realize the risk but it was necessary to prevent further damage." He looked at Trip, "I had to put her in a deep coma, deep enough to affect the psi abilities. Those are intimately interconnected with vital processes," he made a half-gesture towards the respirator, "life-support measures will only increase."

"Then you have to wake her up!" Trip growled.

E'Shara looked at him sharply, "Waking her up could kill her." She turned to Phlox, "I need to enter into a shallow mindmeld, through the stasis field. Healer Yadur and Healer Smirak know what to do." Phlox had a sudden mental image of the two healers dispatching E'Shara if she became infected. And yet there was no other choice. He nodded and moved out of the way.

E'Shara stepped forward but Trip was still at the head of the bed, preventing access. Yadur and Smirak took position a foot behind and on each side of her. The three healers were facing the engineer, patiently waiting for him to move. Nobody said a word.

Trip's eyes went from the healers to Phlox, thinking about his options. There was only so much he could do. He couldn't physically stop the healers. If he resisted, the Captain would order him to stand down and could have the guards take him out. He had to be cagey, he had to be smart about this.

The thought came unbidden to him that he needed to release the stasis field. Once released, T'Pol would wake up, be back to herself. And then the healers would no longer be needed, they'd have to leave the ship. Just like in his dream.

"Sorry, m'am," Trip walked around to the other side, ostensibly moving out of the way of the healer, actually moving closer to where the stasis field was connected to the power source. He looked at the wall of machinery, portraying interest, actually checking his bearings in relation to the connection plug. It was in the near corner. Now all he needed was a time when everyone's attention was distracted.

xxx

** _It_ **

A wave of pulsating ecstasy went through It, ricocheting from one side of the room to the other. The plan had succeeded. The point of inflection had been successfully reached and had tipped along the expected fault lines. Exactly as expected. This was worthy of celebration. It was not uncommon for the emergy build-up to go awry at the last minute, either failing completely or manifesting itself into some action that was far from the intended result.

But the universe had smiled on It. The stasis field penning It would soon be released and he would jump to the new hosts. Their ship was smaller, it would be easier to redirect it and have them bring It to the Realm of the Unassigned.

There It would be safe. It yearned for the Realm, yearned for one of the futures that would once again be open to It. Any future would do. It had learned its lesson.

xxx

** _Phlox_ **

E'Shara's turned to Phlox, "I will need access."

The doctor nodded, "We have anti-stasis suits ready for you. Are you familiar with their operation?"

E'Shara shook her head, "We seldom are faced with a stasis field."

"Of course, of course," Phlox purred, "It's very simple, really. It's set to a frequency that minimizes stasis interference without suppressing it. My understanding is that this will be enough for a shallow examination, hmm?"

E'Shara looked at Yadur before looking back at Phlox. She nodded, "I will only be checking for a foreign telepathic presence." Her tone remained unemotional but Phlox sensed she was embarrassed not to be doing more. At the same time, doing more might be a death sentence. An awful, ugly, bloody death sentence. He couldn't blame her, really. "That will be perfectly all right," he replied.

He saw from the corner of his eye that Archer was choking on that, about to say something. But the Captain must have realized the unfairness of demanding more. He closed his mouth wordlessly, his stress showing instead in his clenched fists.

xxx

** _Trip_ **

E'shara was fully suited, hands steepled in front of her face, eyes closed. She opened her eyes and extended her hand towards the stasis field, taking a hesitant step closer. The whole room's attention was riveted on her.

That's what Trip had been waiting for. He reached over and behind the medical console, grabbing the stasis connector with both hands. Trip started twisting, working hard against the connection. The thing was electromagnetically anchored to the wall. Fortunately, it was made to give way in an emergency. Trip had plenty of experience with recalcitrant hardware, and the muscles to show for it.

"Stop! Commander Tucker, Stop!" Phlox shouted from behind. E'Shara had backed away from the biobed. Trip didn't stop, twisting further. The connection slowly loosened. Archer rushed to him but Phlox was already there. The doctor grabbed the engineer's back, trying to block his arms. Instead, Trip yanked harder.

The statis field shimmered and went off.

There was a gasp, perhaps from one of the Vulcans, then the sound of footsteps precipitously leaving the isolation room.

And then the stasis field re-established itself.

Trip swore. He'd forgotten about the safety override.

The switch was further on the wall. Trip reached for it. Phlox clung even harder to him, trying to pull him off the wall. Trip jabbed the doctor with one elbow, then turned and shoved him hard and away. Phlox reeled backwards onto the stasis field, rolling off onto the floor, dazed. Trip turned back to the override and Archer jumped on him in turn, trying to get him into a headlock in spite of his injured shoulder.

Trip arched his back, destabilizing the Captain, and slammed his elbow full force into his friend's side. Archer grunted but didn't let go. Trip ducked from under Archer's grip, pivoted hard and hit Archer's bad shoulder with the butt of his hand. Archer screamed and doubled over. Trip reached for the safety override again.

The sizzle of a phaser lit up the room briefly.

Trip fell in a heap. Phlox was getting back to his feet. He turned to where the phaser fire had come from. The healers were gone and in their place Lieutenant Reed was standing at the entrance to the isolation room, putting his phaser back in its holster.

xxx


	15. The Sighting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: This chapter concludes Chapter 14. The story can now proceed.

xxx

** _Reed_ **

Reed stayed by the entrance to Sickbay, all senses on alert. He'd made the tactical decision to hang behind, where he could check what happened, have a broader range of action. There may be an intruder on board and he was wary of the Vulcans. Especially after seeing what T'Pol did to his men and her laboratory. As he waited, he put a hand on his phaser, then pulled it out. It made him feel better about staying put when every fiber of his being was pushing him to go behind the isolation curtain, see first-hand what was going on.

There was some noise, Phlox shouted at Trip to stop. The Vulcans surged out of the isolation unit almost at a run. The four security guards stationed outside surrounded them right away, phasers drawn. Reed nodded approvingly. They were following directions to the letter. He'd been very clear that they were not to engage in hand-to-hand combat, that their mission was to contain the healers from a distance, fire only if under attack.

The healers remained where they were, looking incredulously at the security men encircling them. More noises were coming from the isolation unit. Reed rushed over, phaser drawn, gesturing to two of his men to peel off and back him up.

He slipped past the isolation curtains. And stopped. Trip and Archer were struggling with something. He wasn't sure what. Trip slipped out of the Captain's hold and hit him hard. Archer went down screaming. There was no time for questions. Reed fired. Trip went down.

Silence settled on the room. Phlox was getting back up but the Captain was still curled up on the floor, holding his shoulder. There didn't seem to be any further issues.

Reed ruefully put his phaser back in his holster. First T'Pol and now Trip. He doubted they'd ever invite him to their wedding.

xxx

** _It_ **

If It had had a corporeal form, its howl of desperation would have been heard from one end of Enterprise to the other.

It had come so close. So close. The stasis field had been released. It had been right there, at the edge, ready to jump.

But the hosts had seen It. The hosts had seen It and taken a step back, stepping beyond where he could reach.

And the stasis field had come back. It was penned again, unable to leave the host.

The hosts had clearly seen It but they were not symbiots. Only symbiots could see It. Unless It was compressed, and then some Hosts could almost see It. That must have been what happened. It had been tightly compressed in anticipation of the jump. And the hosts had seen It. And fled.

The almost host had been gunned down. It did not know whether the almost-host was alive or dead. Now It was alone again. Alone and stranded. If It had had a corporeal form, It would have wailed its anguish and despair.

xxx

** _Archer_ **

"What the hell happened?!" Archer was angry. His shoulder hurt like the devil and it was in a sling again. If there was anything he hated more than a sling, he couldn't think of it right now.

"Based on events, I would say Commander Tucker was affected by whatever has taken hold of T'Pol," Phlox answered.

Archer turned to E'Shara. She blinked. Yadur and Smirak raised an eyebrow in turn. Their heads were once again uncovered. After the brouhaha in Sickbay, Phlox had insisted that everyone regroup in the conference room, where the healers were not under so much strain. "Do you agree?" Archer asked when it became clear the Vulcans were not going to volunteer an answer.

E'Shara looked at Yadur and Smirak. Archer and Phlox waited. Reed hid a half-smile. He knew very well why the Vulcans were uncomfortable. They'd fled. Turned on their heels and ran out of there like they'd seen the devil itself.

"We saw..." E'Shara started, then paused. She looked at Yadur and Smirak again. Finally Yadur gave a nod. E'Shara turned back to the Captain, "I realize this may be difficult for you to understand, Captain," E'Shara started again, "but we saw a... possibly a life form... or a telepathic organism."

Archer looked inquiringly at Phlox. At first he'd almost scoffed when the elder had said it would be difficult for him to understand, ready to sarcastically ask her if it was because he was a hardly evolved Human. Now he wasn't so sure. "A... telepathic life form?" he repeated.

"A telepathic energy form, Captain," E'Shara corrected, "They do not fall within the accepted biological parameters for lifeforms."

"One of the parameters is the capacity for growth and functional activity," Phlox helpfully supplied, "but telepathic forms operate without a physical form."

"But... if it doesn't have a physical form... how d'you see it? And how d'you know...?" Archer remained suspicious about the whole thing.

Smirak repressed a quick eyebrow, as if the response should have been obvious. "We..." E'Shara hesitated, trying to find words in an unfamiliar language to explain what was an obviously unknown concept, "... Vulcan healers have heightened psi capabilities," she explained, "... the energy form would not be apparent to almost everyone, but it was clear to us."

Archer looked at her through narrowed eyes. She was explaining why it was that the healers could see that thing, she'd missed his question how could it even been seen. Another might have let it go at that, but another was not captain of a starship, tasked with protecting the lives of a hundred souls. "I mean," he stubbornly went on, "if that thing doesn't have a physical form, as Phlox puts it, then how can it be 'seen'?"

E'Shara blinked in sudden understanding, "Psi abilities are a sense in the same way vision, smell, and touch are senses," she replied, "In the absence of a specific word in Standard, it seems that 'seeing' is more appropriate then 'touching' or 'smelling'." Archer nodded. That, he could understand. "If you prefer, Captain," E'Shara went on, "all three of us perceived the telepathic energy form. The 'sighting' was too rapid to determine if it is a parasite or another form of telepathic energy," she paused, hesitated, "but Healers Yadur and Smirak have determined the potential risk is too elevated for any of us to attempt contact, and I concur."

"Hold on!" Archer had been waiting for them to chicken out since the beginning. Now he was tired, his shoulder was aching, and he'd been definitely underimpressed with the Vulcans running out of the isolation room. Phlox say what he wants, that was very... unVulcan-like. "So that's it," he raised his voice without even noticing, "you're not sure what this is but rather than try and figure it out, you're running for the hills?!"

He found himself faced with a couple of quizzical eyebrows. "It's an expression!" he roared. Damn Vulcans! He could feel his face turning red, but he'd really had it. ""Commander T'Pol deserves better than that! She would never, never, give up without trying!" He suddenly had an inspiration, "And neither would Surak! He watched his planet in the throes of dying, and still he tried, and those were much worse odds than what you're facing! And he succeeded!" he concluded in a bellow.

There was silence in the room. The three Vulcans blinked in polite puzzlement. Then E'Shara spoke again, "My apologies if I have misspoken, Captain," she quietly said, "I was referring to direct contact with the telepathic energy. I did not mean to imply we would not try. Doctor Phlox and I have spoken about how to do so."

Phlox suddenly took an intense interest in the tabletop, careful not to stare at Archer. The Captain thinned his lips again. He'd just made a fool of himself in front of Vulcans. Once again. His eyes shot daggers at Phlox, "Hhmmph," he said in response, "obviously, I have yet to hear from the Enterprise chief medical officer."

The sarcasm didn't go over the Vulcan's heads, E'Shara's eyebrow was a witness to that, but it did go over the Denobulan doctor's head. Phlox looked up, as genial as ever, "Based on what happened, we are fairly certain that Commander Tucker is under the influence of the telepathic energy form," he said, talking to the room. He looked at Reed who was sitting sullenly next to Archer. The chief of security liked a clean boundary between good guys and bad guys, he had little patience for shades of gray, and his friend being under the influence of an alien telepathic whatever was a huge shade of gray. "We'll use that to try and contact it, ascertain what its intentions are," Phlox went on, "When I say 'we', I mean Healers E'Shara, Yadur and Smirak," he added, "just to be clear."

"Hold on a second, hold on!" Archer pressed his forearms onto the table, leaning forward towards Phlox. "You're saying... Are you saying?... What?! How?!" Once again there was silence in the room. Once again, he felt like he'd just put his foot in his mouth in public.

"Commander Tucker has publicly acknowledged that he is Commander T'Pol's bondmate." E'Shara replied, talking clearly and slowly for Archer's benefit.

As if he was supposed to understand that. The whole thing was driving him nuts. "Yes, and...?" he asked.

"The healers believe the telepathic lifeform was able to reach out to Trip because of the bond," Phlox helped him, "... and that they can use the bond to communicate back with it." He wasn't exactly clear on how that would happen but he knew the full medical explanation would tax the Captain's patience, especially as it involved psionic concepts that were unknown to Humans.

xxx


	16. Upstream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I'm so late with this, sorry for the delay! Not sure what happened, except inspiration simply left me high and dry. I decided to wait it out and it's slowly coming back.

** _It_ **

It waits.

There is not more that can be done. It is stranded on a ship. Another ship.

It waits.

For a transport, for a host, for a symbiot. It waits. Thoughts of reaching the Realm of the Unassigned have been suppressed. The world is a gray and lonely place. Waiting is what It has learned to do best.

It waits.

It can feel the hosts, tantalizing close to It. The other hosts. Not this host. This one is of little use, her life signs slowly dwindling. It knows enough about organic matter to know she will soon cease to exist. And then It will be alone again, unable to move or flee. Not unless someone releases the stasis field.

It waits.

At least It is no longer marooned on a planet.

A ship means movement, the possibility of traveling. It might be trapped under the stasis field but the ship is not static. Nothing is static. The organic host will eventually decay, and the stasis field will lose energy. That is the law of entropy.

It has managed to bend the energy fields and get the almost-host to release the field once. The almost-host may be dead but there are others. Influencing them might be akin to moving a brick wall, but It is a warrior spirit, a spirit of action.

It will try again.

xxx

** _Sickbay ** __**_ **

"Shouldn't you wake him up?" Archer asked.

Phlox whipped around as if he'd completely forgotten that the Captain was there. Which he had. His focus was on the healers, E'Shara in particular. She was standing by Trip's biobed, preparing herself. Smirak and Yadur were behind her, a physical and mental shield from the isolation room where T'Pol was kept alive under the stasis field. T'Pol and whatever it was that had taken hold of her.

Phlox sighed. His Sickbay was getting mighty crowded these days. He couldn't miss the security men posted around the insulation unit, phaser at the ready. 'In case the stasis field failed', Lieutenant Reed had said. As if that was likely. The security men, Lieutenant Reed, keeping a measured but safe distance, ready for action, the Captain and the Vulcan healers. There was little room left for therapeutic anything.

He brought his attention back to the inert body on the biobed. He was keeping Trip in a coma, just like T'Pol, but lighter. It wasn't like the engineer had much psi ability. Though he wasn't taking any chances. None of them were. Nobody was quite sure what would happen when the healers reached the telepathic parasite through Trip. Would that thing suddenly come through Trip straight at the healers? The risk was there. Phlox glanced at Reed and his men. He couldn't say he was unhappy they were around. And he was pretty sure the Vulcans felt likewise.

"He does not need to be awake," E'Shara's voice cut through the silence, responding to the Captain. Phlox privately sent her thanks. She'd said it in a lot fewer words than he'd have.

That gave Archer pause. He turned to look at her. "But... the mindmeld…", he started, then paused, conscious all he had to go on was a hunch, something that he may have learned from Surak, but he was not so sure.

"What I will be attempting is not a mind meld." E'Shara was almost brusque, obviously unaware she was talking to a species who didn't have the first notion of what a mindmeld felt like.

"Oh..." Archer would have liked to argue that if it felt and quacked like a duck, it must be a duck, but he couldn't think of a way to articulate it without raising questions about ducks, and that was the last thing he wanted to do, discuss ducks with Vulcans.

The healers were paying him on mind, already on the task at hand. "Ready?" Phlox looked at E'Shara, all but ignoring the Captain.

"We are ready," she replied and stepped to the biobed. Phlox nodded at the 'we' instead of 'I'. Yadur and Smirak covered their heads with their hoods, hiding their features. He wasn't sure what was the use but evidently it was an integral part to the going ons.

xxx

** _It ** __**_ **

It waits.

The surrounding grayness envelops It. The cold of empty space.

Not quite empty.

There's a faint shadow, the pink of a rising sun, somewhere far away. It doesn't even know if it's real. The glow reminds It of the almost-host.

That gives It hope.

It reaches towards the pink glow.

xxx

** _E'Shara ** __**_ **

She swiftly enters the mind-meld that is not a mind-meld. There is no use trying to explain to psi-blind Humans what it is she is attempting, that she will limit herself to a gentle touch, not enter the engineer's mind, and even so she remains at risk if the parasite has already taken hold of him.

She proceeds slowly, carefully, part of her aware of the great strain on Healer Yadur and Healer Smirak. She knows she needs to go quickly and yet she doodles along, captivated by the structure of the Human's mind, marveling at the trivialities that are so different.

She suddenly stops in her exploration. There is something there, something foreign and yet very familiar. It takes her a few seconds before she places the resonance. A bond. An actual bond. She did not recognize it at once because she did not expect it. It is illogical to underestimate the many unexpected ways the universe may come together, and yet she has been guilty of it. She did not expect a... a Vulcan marital bond... in a Human.

She stops and considers, gently mind-touching behind her to reassure herself of the presence of Yadur and Smirak's minds, intensely focused on creating a safe zone. She turns back to the marital bond. She cannot use it as a channel, that would be a violation of every tenet of her culture. Kroykah! her mind forms even as the thought brushes it. There is also the possibility that the bond is how the telepathic parasite influenced the Human. Cultural taboo and actual fear mean she shall not use the bond.

She gently touches around with her mind, trying to feel a telepathic presence, any telepathic presence. But there is nothing there. The Human is psi-blind, trying to project outward is like running in moving sand. She needs to find another way.

xxx

** _Sickbay ** __**_ **

Phlox sees the healer's eyes flutter, he can tell the other healers are not as tightly hunched over. E'Shara opens her eyes, seems to look right through him. "Anything?" he asks. Even if he knows the Vulcans will tell them in due time. He needs to know. If only for the advancement of science.

E'Shara looks around the room as if she's seeing everything for the first time and Phlox suddenly worries that perhaps she's under the influence of that thing.

But when she talks, she sounds perfectly normal, quite the same as she has all along. "Commander Tucker...," she starts, hesitates, "I must admit to being faced with a paradox." She turns to the other healers, "The necessary outward projection can only be achieved by means of the marital bond T'Pol has established with Commander Tucker." The two of them recoil in horror, Archer is not sure it is at the thought of a marital bond between a Vulcan and a Human or at the thought of trespassing on said bond.

"That is forbidden," Yadur hisses. "Kroykah!" Smirak adds. Archer looks at him closely. So he is the conservative one.

Phlox is not paying attention to the byplay. "Is there any other way?" he asks E'Shara.

She turns to him, "Establishing a full mind-meld with Commander Tucker would directly expose me to the telepathic energy form." Obviously this can't happen. "His psi levels are too low to broadly cast for a signal." She doesn't even mention the bond. That tells Phlox it's an absolute bar. "Perhaps we can boost his psi levels," he proposes in turn. He doesn't know quite how, but there must be a way.

"And how do you propose to accomplish such a feat?" Smirak asks. Archer shoots him another glance. Yeah, that guy is not their greatest fan.

But E'Shara is frowning. "There was...," she starts, seeming to look inside herself, "as I was leaving the meld, I believe I may have felt the contact of an unknown mental energy," she calmly says. She looks at the acolytes, "I need to confirm the finding."

"Have you considered the possibility this was only the echo of your mind prodding outward?" Yadur asks. Archer narrows his eyes at him. Make that both healers are not their greatest fans.

"I have considered it and am dismissing the eventuality. I need to confirm the finding." E'Shara's tone is steadfast. Archer has the sudden epiphany that she's the elder, in the end they have to do as she sees fit. Yadur's face is as calm as a still lake, but he's sure he's is sucking on a lemon right now. The thought pleases him to no end. He'll always have a thing for Vulcans.

"Shouldn't we wait until I find a way to boost his psi sensitivity?" Phlox asks.

She turns to him, "Not at this present time, doctor. The additional activity will make it difficult for me to differentiate a foreign presence from additional psionic activity."

She looks at the other healers without saying a word. They answer the beckon and pull the hoods over their heads, ready to once again be her shield. She goes back to Trip's form on the biobed, lays her fingers on the psi points. Just a gentle touch, she doesn't need to enter a meld. Just a gentle touch and she's already there, she knows the way around his mind now.

She opens her senses, waiting for the signal of another mental energy.

xxx

xxx


	17. It Seen

xxx

**_It_**

The pink glow leaves just as It reaches for it. There is nothing It can do. It withdraws inside the host, ready to sink back into the throes of despair.

But wait! The pink glow is back. It can feel it! It expands again, palpitating intensely.

And pauses.

The pink glow doesn't feel like a host. Perhaps it is a new kind of host. It reaches out again. It can feel a familiar telepathic subtext. That's the almost-host. So the almost-host is not dead... It keeps its cautious approach. The pink glow is powerful, very powerful. More powerful than a symbiot, possibly. Its first thought is that something that powerful can certainly help It reach the Realm of the Unassigned. Its second thought is that It needs to make itself known. But how?

The telepathic projection of the pink glow illuminates everything around. A vision suddenly runs through It like ripples on a pond. The almost-host is connected to the dying host. A faint luminous thread goes from one to the other. Now It understands its initial confusion and why It was able to successfully manipulate the energy fields around the almost-host.

In a sudden inspiration, It knows how to reach the pink glow. The power of the pink glow intensifies everything around it, the energy fields, the almost-host, the bond with the dying host. It will use that power to force a contact.

xxx

**_E'Shara_**

E'Shara tenses. There is the unmistakable aura of another telepathic presence. She knows it can feel her in turn. But it cannot directly contact her. She is actively skirting around the contours of the engineer's mind, using his absence of psi abilities to shield herself.

She can feel the crakling of the psionic sphere. The energy form is strong, different from anything she has ever known, and more powerful. She takes a breath, mindful of Yadur and Smirak behind her. She is the Elder, her duty is to protect them, make sure the telepathic energy form cannot reach them through her. The thought comes that she should retreat, interrupt the mind-touch, and save herself. The Humans could abandon the stasis field, the energy form and T'Pol's body on a remote planet. Perhaps that is what has happened previously, that is how they came to find the energy form.

If she retreats, she will not find out more about the energy form. Not even whether It is a telepathic parasite.

If she remains and the energy form is indeed a telepathic parasite, she may die at the hands of her acolytes. If they are overtaken in turn, there are many others ready to take them out. Kaiidth. Things will be as they must be. But at least she will know.

It is her scientific duty as a healer to find out more. She is pleased at the logical conclusion, which she deems unrelated to any consideration of personal curiosity. She will not retreat.

She stands her ground, watching the fast-rotating whirlpools of energy that herald the new energy form's encroaching closeness. She will not close her eyes as it draws near. She will watch. And learn. She braces herself.

And then it is there, right there, next to her.

xxx

**_Sickbay_**

They're all on tenterhooks. Phlox is keeping an eye on Trip and E'Shara, Archer is keeping an eye on him and the Vulcans, Reed is keeping an eye on everyone. The silence is complete, all tensely waiting for something to happen. They're not sure what.

Something does happen. Trip talks.

"I am….," he says, his mouth contorting itself around the sounds, his jaw working.

It is so unexpected it sends their minds reeling, unable to come to terms with what their senses are telling them. Archer whips around to look at him, did he actually wake up? But no, Trip's still unconscious. "What's going on?!" Archer hisses at Phlox. That didn't sound like Trip. Did it? He wants answers. He needs answers. Besides Trip, he's responsible for a hundred souls aboard the ship.

Phlox is on his heels, the smile off his face, his face strained as he quickly recalibrates the mediscanner. He looks up uncertainly at Archer.

Reed is staring in horror at Trip's prone figure, his grip tighter on his phaser, pushing away the unwelcome thought that perhaps he'll have to kill his best friend.

Only E'Shara hasn't moved, she's welded to Trip's face. The healers are not moving either but the strain is showing in their quicker breath. Silence falls.

Trip's mouth opens again, "I am... It." The voice is guttural. That's definitely not Trip's voice.

Archer looks from Trip to the Vulcans, trying to figure out who's responsible for this. Heads will roll if it's some kind of trick. "What the hell's going on?!" he whispers more loudly, staring accusingly at Phlox. It's the chief medical officer's duty to know, to tell his Captain.

But Phlox's attention is on E'Shara. If he had any idea what's going on, he would tell the Captain. His mediscanner says Trip is in a coma, unable to think or speak. E'Shara's eyes are showing white, the pupils rolled back in her head. She's still standing, still breathing. There's no sign she's been taking over by whatever that thing in T'Pol is. Though his first clue may be when she tries to kill herself...

Finally, E'Shara speaks. "Who are you?" she asks. Phlox relaxes.

"I am a _geodid_ ," Trip replies, or whatever's using Trip replies. The engineer's throat is working hard, as if the words are being squeezed out of him.

Archer stares in horror. She's using Trip to talk to that thing! Or that thing is using Trip to talk to her, whichever!

Phlox lifts his mediscanner, recording everything that's going on. He's never seen anything quite like this before.

"What is a geodid?" E'Shara goes on.

Archer looks daggers at her. This is no time for Vulcan curiosity! Why doesn't she tell that thing to get the hell away from his officer! He starts moving towards her but Phlox's hand on his arm stops him. Archer glares at him but the doctor shakes his head, imploring him not to sever the connection.

"I am a geodid," Trip repeats. Apparently, that's enough of an explanation. Or perhaps that's the only explanation it can give. "Go … Real... Often... Assigned," he haltingly adds.

Archer looks at Reed then at Phlox. Did her hear right? What does that mean? What are they going to do if Trip starts talking gibberish? He needs to put a stop to that nonsense. That thing has a hold of Trip, he doesn't know how and it's spooking him. He wants it gone, out, away from his crew. He signals Reed to go to the isolation unit. The security man had the same thought, is already walking over there, phaser at the ready.

E'Shara acts as if she isn't talking to a comatose Trip. "What is the Realm of the Unassigned?" she asks.

Archer convulsively balls his hands into fists. Really?! That's the best she can come up with? How does she even know what Trip said?... Of course, he realizes, she heard it, what with her Vulcan hearing and all. Only secondly does he realize that perhaps she's also heard it in her mind. In any case that's not where he wants this to go.

"What do you want from us?!" he shouts at the space above Trip's head. He'll be damned if he's going to just stand there while those two talk about the weather.

"Are you a parasite?" Phlox quickly asks over him. Archer glares at him but the doctor pays him no attention. Whatever's talking through Trip is obviously limited by physical constraints. Better keep the answers to a simple 'yes' or 'no'.

"Not... Parasite... I" comes the laborious answer.

Phlox looks at E'Shara. If that's the case, there's no risk, E'Shara can attempt a mind-meld! The Vulcan healers are not reacting though, and Phlox's reminded that they all know better than to blindly trust an alien.

There is a keening sound coming from Trip, a sound of great pain or great longing, he's not sure. "The... Realm..." Is the engineer crying? He gives a long shuddering breath. "The Realm... _Symbiots_ …. It needs..."

xxx

**_E'Shara_**

Words are not enough. E'Shara realizes she needs direct contact with the telepathic energy form. In a few seconds she could learn everything there is to learn. The energy form says it is not a telepathic parasite. That does not mean it is the case. It could be stating the truth or it could be lying. There is no way to know unless one exposes oneself.

She interrupts the contact, blinks reflexively as the room shifts from the psionic sphere back to the physical reality. The transition always leaves her mildly disoriented. The Doctor and the Captain are looking intensely at her. Behind her, she senses Yadur and Smirak coming out of their vigil. Immediately, she feels the pressure of the telepathic energy on her mind, she can tell it by its psionic imprint. Now that she knows what it is, the pressure is not so intense. The mind is a mysterious thing indeed.

"What's going on?" Archer asks her.

It is the third time he has asked that question. She wonders if that is a representation of the limits of his questioning range, his ability to probe the unknown. But she answers the question nonetheless, "The energy form has expressed it is not a telepathic parasite. It is therefore appropriate to enter into a mind-meld. That will facilitate communication and exchange."

"Hold it!" he stops her with a raised palm. She notes that the Captain's rate of respiration has increased, his skin seems warmer, he looks pinkier. He is obviously in an agitated state. She raises an eyebrow. She does not wish to point out he does not have the physically ability to restrain her.

Dr. Phlox's voice cuts through the tension, "Are you sure it's safe?" he asks.

E'Shara turns to him. At least, he has a theoretical understanding of Vulcan telepathia. "If it is not safe, it shall be destroyed," she answers, glossing over the fact she will be destroyed along with it, and possibly the other Vulcan healers.

The Captain is scowling. She notes the limited range of motion of Human eyebrows. "Lieutenant Reed is in the isolation room. He will cover you."

She is not sure what that means but the geographic inference is that he assumes she will engage in a mind-meld with T'Pol. She gives a shake of her head. "Not necessary. I will mind-meld with Commander Tucker."

The Captain seems surprised. "Won't the interposition of another skew the communication in ways that cannot be anticipated?" He asks.

It is E'Shara's turn to be surprised by his understanding of the subtleties of an indirect meld. Her eyebrows climb to their apex. She is reminded that the Captain gave a flawless _ta'al_ when she came on board. And that it is illogical to underestimate another based on one's perceptions alone. She inclines her head towards the Captain.

"There is a risk that the appeal of a direct contact could overwhelm the energy form's portrayal that it is not a parasite," she replies. The Captain nods, he understands the concept of not tempting the devil, however poorly formulated.

E'Shara is surprised by this unexpected finesse. That is the third time he has surprised her. When she is back in the monastery she will spend additional meditation time on the topic.

xxx


	18. The Meld

xxx  
**_E'Shara_**

"My mind to your mind..." E'Shara pronounces the ritualistic words in the silence of Sickbay. Healers Yadur and SMirak are behind her, and behind them, Lieutenant Reed and three security men. By request of E'Shara herself.

She will talk throughout the meld, giving everyone a window on what exactly is going on. The moment the telepathic energy form tries to take over, they are to fire.

Archer and Phlox have taken a step back, watch from a few feet away.

"...Our minds are joined..." She is quite used to mind-melding with those who are unconscious or raving mad. The monastery sees its fair share of both. Telepathic abilities are a godsend and a curse, as the Humans would say. One additional sense to help understand and appreciate the world around, one more vulnerability for sicknesses of all kinds. Humans only see its benefits and perceive it as a threat, fearful their inner thoughts are being divulged. But in the same way Human eyes can see others but not x-ray them, Vulcan telepathy can feel others but not their thoughts. That requires a mind-meld or … a bond.

She is once again confronted with the presence of the full mating bond between the Human and T'Pol. E'Shara is not pleased, as a healer. Do these youngsters realize what they've done? Kids! They do not understand. They think they are invincible, no matter what the species. How will the feeble Human fare in ponn far with a fully-mature Vulcan female? Initially, they will be matched but at some point... she might kill him, and that will kill her in turn. She grieves the potential loss of lives and talent.

Suddenly the energy form is around her. She sees with perfect clarity that it is using the bond as a channel, and the strength of her own telepathy to do so. Anger at the double violation threatens to suffuse her before she quickly rationalizes that it is a different kind of telepath, one not restrained by Vulcan ethics. And it would direct thoughts, not feel them; it does not interfere with the bond. Kaiidth.

She establishes contact.

xxx

** _The Mind-Meld_ **

She is standing on windswept plains, looking over tall structures throwing their shadow all the way to her. She knows what they are even though she does not. "Air towers...," she says out loud, mindful of those listening in Sickbay.

She feels a push of wind against her face and turns to stare at the shimmering figure walking towards her. It is shapeless, formless, and yet she knows what it is. "You are... the geodid," she calmly states.

The form shimmers faster, "I am a geodid. There are many others like me."

Thousands of large beings are crisscrossing the sky. She mind-identifies them as geodids. The thought is quickly corrected. They are not geodids, these are... ennreps… the knowledge comes from outside and from inside. Geodids are somehow connected to ennreps, but it is not clear how.

She turns to the geodid. 'Is this your home planet?' she thought-asks. And then realizing that she needs to maintain vocal contact, she asks again out loud, "Is this your home planet?"

'It is," the other answers as she knows it would. "Isn't it beautiful?" the geodid goes on, the question like a caress against her cheek. It cares for its homeworld a great deal.

There is a fleeting vision of other structures in the distance, what looks like densely packed columnar trees. She would ask but she feels her focus is pushed somewhere else. Not surprising, the geodid is showing her his world through the filter of its own perceptions.

A cacophony of calls resounds in the sky and they both look up to where two ennreps are circling up and high, using geothermal currents to soar even higher. The geodid pulsates in a color she does not know. She looks at the air towers and she knows without knowing that the two ennreps will fight, a bloody, gruesome fight. The winner will kill the other's geodid, if it so chooses.

She can feel the thrill going through the geodid at the thought-vision. She remains stoic, careful to repress all emotions. The thought of such violent, gratuitous, death is horrifying to a Vulcan. She will need to meditate. But she is here to learn, not judge.

"Why do you want to go back?" she asks, thought-sharing the illogic of wanting to go to a place where one faces death so gruesomely. A great wave of sadness washes over the geodid and she knows that she does not understand. Perhaps is it some religious ritual? But then the geodid would say as much. The geodid turns to her, "The Realm of the Unassigned," it mind-says, its whole being yearning for it.

"The Realm of the Unassigned," she repeats. Waves of sadness wash over her. It is getting harder to maintain telepathic distance. In a therapeutic setting, this would be a signal to withdraw. But this is not a therapeutic setting, and she cannot afford to withdraw.

She hears herself talk, and yet it is not her talking. She is herself and she is the geodid and the geodid is her. A sob catches in the geodid's mind, echoes in her voice, "I need to go back to the Realm of the Unassigned...," she says in the silence of Sickbay.

xxx

**_ Archer _ **

Lieutenat Reed tenses. Is she being taken over by that thing? He looks at Archer who signals with a palm held horizontally that it's okay. He's seen it before, though he couldn't say if that's his or Surak's memory, how a superior melder will start talking and sounding like the meldee. He also knows the danger that melders will lose themselves in the other's mind but there's not much risk here, the energy form is too alien. He wonders fleetingly how he knows that. As he knows that he can now ask any question, the E'Shara/Whatever dyad will have no choice but to speak the truth.

So they're back to talking about the Realm of the Unassigned. Sure, he'd like to know what that is, but that's somewhere down on the list, well after what really matters to him. And to Enterprise.

"You need to let go of my First Officer," he forcefully says from where he's standing. "And my Chief Engineer," he adds. He's not sure about Trip, if that thing's got him, but it doesn't hurt to ask. Next, he'll ask it to get the hell off his ship. One thing at a time.

It is E'Shara who responds, for the geodid. "First release the stasis field."

Archer snorts in angry surprise. Like that's ever going to happen. "You do understand we can't do that," he dismisses the request with a shrug, "The stasis field is because your presence is hurting Commander T'Pol. It's killing her. You need to let her go."

"I need to reach the Realm of the Unassigned," E'Shara/It replies. Reed frowns. He's still not sure she hasn't been taken over.

"You need to release T'Pol first," Archer retorts, stepping to where E'Shara is, looking at Trip. He's not sure what's going on between E'Shara and the alien. He thinks about that thing as an alien. Telepathic or otherwise. "Then we can talk about taking you there," he adds.

"I will let her go when you bring me to the Realm of the Unassigned," E'Shara/It says.

Now they're at an impasse. There's a long minute of silence. Archer thinks of that thing as an alien and he's done his fair share of negotiating with aliens. And learned a few things along the way. "And your friends are lying-in-wait for us at the Realm," he sneers in reply. "How do we know you're not leading us into a trap?"

"There is no malice in the geodid's thoughts, Captain," E'Shara intervenes. Reed relaxes slightly. So that thing does not have the healer after all.

Archer frowns. Part of him is intrigued, there's the siren call of a new world to discover, but he'll be darned if he yields to blackmail. Because that's what the alien's doing, blackmailing them. E'Shara's not helping his case.

"You have to release T'Pol first or she might die along the way," Archer tries a different tack, hoping the alien can see the logic in that.

"She will not die," E'Shara/It replies. "I have seen your medical information database, you can keep her alive until we reach the Realm."

Archer turns to Phlox, scowling, upset that an alien knows about their capabilities. Phlox misunderstands the Captain's scowl and nods his reassurance that this is indeed correct. Archer narrows his eyes. "And what assurance do we have that you will release her when we get there?" he asks.

It is E'Shara's turn to speak, ""If the geodid releases T'Pol, what assurances does it have that you will bring it to the Realm of the Unassigned?"

Archer frowns again. One more time when he'd rather a Vulcan would just shut up. Just as he's about to talk about giving his word, the Vulcan elder speaks again. "The geodid has no other interest than reaching the Realm of the Unassigned," she says.

Archer thins his lips. Make that three times that he'd wish she'd just shut up.

xxx

** _E'Shara_ **

E'Shara sees it. The Realm of the Unassigned. She stares in wonder. There are thousands of geodids there, possibly millions. It looks like a cavern or an air tower. She couldn't say, the geodids are making everything blurry, indistinct.

The familiar unshape of the geodid turns to her and she feels the poignancy of its desire to get back here, to the Realm of the Unassigned. But she does not know why.

The part of her that is E'Shara and not the geodid scientifically and rationally thinks this may be a physiological instinct. After all, this would not be the first species that is drawn back to familiar grounds for biological reasons. Starting with Vulcans.

She can clearly see the geodid's motivation, the adaptative mechanism that leads it to influence others and have them bring it to the Realm, learning everything it can along the way in its single-minded quest to reach the Realm. Its motivations could easily seem sinister, but they are not. She understands that it has no interest in T'Pol or anyone else other than as a means to an end, that it will be only too happy to relinquish its hold as soon as it reaches the Realm. But she cannot clearly apprehend why.

The geodid starts pulsating more quickly, mentally bringing her attention to the circular conduit reaching high up, to the ennerps lazily taking off into the sky. It is trying to explain and yet she does not understand. A key component is eluding her, and she doesn't have the creativity to intuit what it could be.

It strikes her as ironic that Humans are reputed for their flexible adaptation of known constructs to integrate new experiences but lack the telepathic abilities necessary to communicate with the geodid. Vulcans have the telepathic ability but lack conceptual imagination. The sum of the parts is greater than the whole, indeed.

She feels the geodid's concern about T'Pol. It was not its intent to harm the host. It is unfortunate that its species' manner of influencing others crossed paths with the exquisitely sensitive architecture of the Vulcan mind. There is hope, though. When the geodid lets go, T'Pol's physiology will rebalance itself. But first, Enterprise has to find the Realm of the Unassigned.

E'Shara has seen enough. She knows enough. She breaks contact, blinking in the newly perceived brightness of Sickbay. Finds herself staring into Captain Archer's eyes. He is not pleased, she can tell.

"So I guess that means we have to find the Realm of the Unassigned?" he growls at her.

She would expect more logic from the Captain. The geodid is in a position of numerical weakness, alone on a ship full of aliens. It is a bigger effort for it to trust that these aliens will be true to their word than for these aliens to trust the geodid will leave once it is brought to the one place it wants to reach above anything else. And the Captain must certainly have considered the damage that Enterprise could inflict on the Realm of the Unassigned if the geodid did not hold its part of the bargain. He is a fighting man, after all.

And then she perceives, in spite of the Captain's best efforts to hide it, his excitement at the opportunity to find another world. A lesser telepath couldn't tell.

It is difficult to understand how Humans can project an emotional tone that is in complete contradiction with their inner resonance. She cannot help but think it would be to their best advantage to suppress their emotions and align their external and internal states.

xxx


	19. Homing Pigeons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **  
> _Author's Notes: As planned, the story was ending after Chapter 16. But then I became caught up in the interaction between Archer and the Vulcans, E'Shara, etc. All chapters since Chapter 14 are bonus chapters:) I'm not going to try and predict when the story ends._  
>  **
> 
> **  
> _Sorry for the long gap. A little preoccupied by current events, like many others..._  
>  **

xxx

** _Hess_ **

Hess tapped her chief on the shoulder, "Hey, it's getting close to the time limit, you've got to get back to Enterprise." Good thing Phlox'd asked her to keep an eye on Trip, the man would kill himself trying to find the data. Not that she can blame him. Trip pulled his upper body out from the helm console where he'd been working, awkwardly crunched between the pilot seats. There were dark pouches under his eyes. The engineer stretched and checked his com. It felt like he'd been jammed in a couple of feet of space. "There's still time," he said, and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, spreading grime and dust all over his face.

Hess thought he looked like a sick raccoon. Actually she thought he looked like hell, but she wasn't going to tell him. He'd been looking like hell since he'd come back from Sickbay, pale and stiff and pretty much morose. The whole engineering team'd wondered what happened, would have kept wondering but for Hoshi, who was Hess's sister-from-another-mother and who could get any information out of Phlox.

Through her, they learned that the Vulcan healers had been able to communicate through Trip even though he was in a coma. She wasn't quite sure how that happened but it explained why Trip'd been looking like he had the hangover of the century.

Before she had the opportunity to argue that there really wasn't time, Trip literally dropped out of her sight, contorting himself back into the narrow opening of the console. Hess sighed. That was so familiar. He only listened to her about engineering stuff. When it came to anything else, the man was as stubborn as a mule. Plus Trip was her commanding officer and that didn't really help make him do what she said.

She looked around at the broken hull, the empty cargo space of the alien ship. Once the Vulcan healers had left Enterprise, they'd sped back to the planet with the alien wreck, looking for anything that could tell them where it came from.

They had no ideas where that might be or what it might look like, so of course Engineering was involved. Because who else could pull a miracle out of their butt on request?

The thought brought her back to her commanding officer. She had no idea how she was going to convince Trip to stop what he was doing and get back to the ship, but having Engineering involved didn't help in this particular case.

She sighed, thinking about calling on the other teams. Almost everyone on board had volunteered to help with the wild goose chase, most to stretch their legs she suspected. They went planetside in three-hour shifts. Some were fanned outside, looking for any piece that had sheared off from the ship on impact. She and Trip were inside, taking the helm apart, imbedded circuit by imbedded circuit, hoping one of those held the database helm commands, perhaps the flight plan, a set of coordinates. If there was such a thing and it hadn't been crushed on impact or long gone back to its component atoms, who knew how long the ship'd been sitting there, broken and gathering dust.

"Coming to relieve Commander Tucker!"

The call almost made her jump, interrupting her train of thought. She turned to glare at Travis, who responded with an impish smile. He knew full well he'd startled her, probably did it on purpose. Hess shook her head, silently signaling to the console where Trip was holed up. All had precise instructions from Phlox about making sure the engineer did not spend one minute more than prescribed planetside. She leaned over, "Hey, Chief! Time to get back to the ship!"

There was a grunt or a groan from under the helm and that was all. She turned to Travis with an expression of 'please help'.

Travis nodded at her that he understood. He leaned over the console in turn. "COMMANDER!" he shouted, his voice booming in the tight confines before spreading outward through the ruptured hull.

There was a bang and a curse. Hess repressed a snort. Trip must have been startled into hitting something. Then "Travis?" Came a disembodied voice from under the console.

Travis leaned further over, "Commander, Dr. Phlox asked me to let you know he's increased Commander T'Pol's life support settings."

There was another curse, followed by silence. Finally noises and movements let them know Trip was coming out from under the helm console. The chief engineer was covered in dust and grime, looking about ready to pass out. "Ok, ok. I need to get back to the ship," he said to Hess. She refrained from pointing out that's what she'd been telling him for the past twenty minutes. Trip lurched away, his limbs stiff from being squeezed under the helm.

Hess and Travis watched him and then she turned to Travis, "Was that true?"

Travis shrugged, "No. Phlox said to use whatever it took to get him back. He said he'd cover."

Hess nodded, looking towards where Trip had exited the ship through the hull breach. She turned back towards the helm, "Well, let's see if that thing can spit out its secrets." She looked at Travis, "You want dibbs?"

The helmsman dubiously looked at the space Trip had been stuck in, and made a face, "Looks like a tight space."

"We have lube," Hess said, staring down with him. There were a couple of heartbeats and then Travis chuckled. Hess threw her head back and laughed uproariously. God, she was a riot.

xxx

** _Trip_ **

Archer was waiting in the transporter room, nodded at Trip as he finished materializing. "Anything?" he asked.

The engineer shook his head, "All the components are embedded in the console, like that thing was made as a single piece. Every time I take a layer off, I may be crushing the navigational software. Not that I'd know what it looks like. Plus E'Shara said some of them fly, perhaps they don't even have one." Trip realized he was oxygen-starved, his limbs laden with lead. Good thing he was on his way to Sickbay. "Perhaps their navigational software is in their brain, like homing pigeons," he added, "we could be straight out of luck."

Archer had been nodding all along. That last statement brought his attention. "Homing pigeons?"

"They have a special ability to get back to their home from wherever," Trip explained, "they were used for warfare centuries ago." He went on to Sickbay, leaving a thoughtful Archer behind him.

xxx

** _Phlox_ **

Phlox took a sharp breath in between his teeth. "I don't know... Even if it didn't seem insane, I doubt the Commander would agree."

"No more insane than what we've already been through," Archer replied, "All we have to do is tell the alien we're looking for the location of its planet."

"The realm..." Phlox corrected.

"Yeah, the realm," Archer replied. "It must be on the planet."

The doctor shifted, obviously ill at ease, "From a medical perspective, Commander Tucker is fully recovered from the... experience...," he let his voice trail, there was no word for 'being-used-as-a-phone-line-while-in-a-coma', "but I wouldn't approach him until the approach has been, hmmm, fully vetted strategically." He looked at Archer, hoping the Captain would catch his drift. Archer was very adept at getting Enterprise in delicate situations and calls for caution were always useful, if seldom heeded.

That did not have the desired effect. His comment seemed to energize Archer further, as if it shored up what he was thinking, "We know the alien energy form wants to get to that realm more than anything in the world," he replied. "It won't do anything to jeopardize that. There's no risk."

Phlox eyed him dubiously, thinking the proof of that was on the lighter side. Everything always sound so plain and simple when the Captain talked. That seldom held true in real life, and they'd all had plenty of experiences to that effect. He shook his head, "You still have to get Commander Tucker to agree," he pointed out. He doubted very much that Trip would be inclined to go along with the plan.

xxx

** _Trip_ **

"Ah, Trip! Glad to find you here! I have to talk to you," Archer called as he entered Sickbay and saw the younger man making his way back from the isolation unit, Dr. Phlox at his side. The doctor stopped and started rocking on his heels ever so slightly, hands behind his back, watching the Captain with great interest.

"Huh..." was Trip's verbose response. He was tired, he'd come to check on T'Pol, gotten a full lecture from Phlox about pushing the limits of the hemoxygen, rested, ate, came to check on T'Pol again. All he wanted to do was get back to the alien wreck and continue digging around for the navigational database. Because it had to be there. He just knew it.

"There may be an alternative to finding the location information," Archer said, looking pointedly back at Phlox. When the engineer didn't show much interest, he went on, "If the aliens are homing pigeons, as you say, perhaps all we have to do is let them guide us there."

"Huh?" Trip said again. How did Archer plan to have the alien guide them there? The thing didn't even have a physical existence.

Archer could see he was going to have to spit it out. "Through you!" he exclaimed, "The alien can guide the ship through you! All we have to do is let it get to where it wants to go. We don't have to find the coordinates!"

"What?!" Trip startled back as if he'd been stung.

"You said it yourself, if they're like homing pigeons, the navigational software is in their brains. E'Shara told us the alien was trying to get us to the realm. How about we let it?"

"But how would it..." Trip started shaking his head vehemently as he figured out what Archer was thinking, "No! I'm not letting that thing back in my mind! Once was enough, thank you!"

"You don't have to let it back in your mind," Archer replied quickly. He took a breath, what came next needed to be stated delicately, "...but since you already have a bond with T'Pol..."

"That's not how it works!" Trip raised his voice. "It's not like some kind of...," his voice trailed as the technical possibility started building itself in his engineering mind. Phlox and Jon were looking at him silently, both very aware that was exactly how it'd worked when the Vulcans were aboard. "...We don't know if it can happen again," Trip was going through the arguments as he too became aware that's how it'd worked, "...We'd have to talk to the alien..." 

Plus, that thing was holding T'Pol hostage, refusing to release her until they got to the planet, putting her life in jeopardy. Even if she seemed stable, there was only so much time until her life signs started ebbing slowly. "...What if it won't release me?" They were already deprived of a science officer, who might already have figured out the alien planet coordinates, too. What if Enterprise didn't have an engineer either...

There was only one logical answer, "I'm not doing it, and you can't make me!"

He shuddered inwardly. When he'd woken up from a dreamless vegetative state, feeling like he'd been run over by a repair cargo, slowly and several times, Phlox and E'Shara were leaning over him, watching him closely. He would never forget the scene.


	20. Memories

_Trip remembers..._

He opened his eyes to the anxious face of Phlox and the raised eyebrow of E'Shara, both leaning over him. Trip looked right and left, taking everything in. He tried to remember what had happened, why he was in Sickbay but came up blank.

There was a movement on his far right side and he saw Malcolm. It came back in a rush, the Vulcans, the Captain, Malcolm. He wasn't sure anymore what he'd been worried about, why he'd been afraid they were going to harm T'Pol. Malcolm. Son of a gun had stunned him. He threw a dark look at his friend. He'd better have a good reason, there'd be words later.

He made to sit up but Phlox's hand kept him in place. "How are you feeling?" Phlox asked.

E'Shara's eyebrows rose in silent comment at the impossible question. What did the doctor mean - intellectually, physically, spiritually, psionically?

The Human answered as if he understood the question, "Like I've been... like I've had more than one too many," he said, his voice hoarse.

Her eyebrows climbed higher at the nonsensical answer. Perhaps the engineer was showing signs of psychotic decompensation.

But the doctor obviously thought that the delusional answer was acceptable, "Good, good!" he said, grinning.

E'Shara catalogued the exchange for further analysis. A healer with more experience interfacing with aliens could help her decipher it. "Do you have any residual memories or mental impressions that are not yours?" she asked in turn.

That only earned her a non-plussed stare. The fact that the Human did not understand the question could only be an indication of brain damage. She turned to Dr. Phlox in silent confirmation that he had noticed the slip as well.

But the doctor didn't seem to note anything abnormal. He was talking again, "We've had... quite an interesting scene going on here. You don't remember anything, hmm?"

Trip shook his head. What was there to remember? He furrowed his brow, trying to recall. He suddenly turned around, trying to look beyond his biobed, "T'Pol! Is she-" he started.

"She's okay!" Phlox cut him off, "She's in the isolation unit..." Then as if he was reminded, "We've been able to establish contact with... the energy form."

"Is it a psionic parasite?" Trip asked worriedly.

Phlox exhaled, "No, it isn't a psionic parasite," he shook his head.

Trip exhaled in relief, sinking back against the bed. He looked up at Phlox, "So, you were able to get rid of it?"

Phlox looked at E'Shara, who looked back at him expressionlessly. The minutest emphasis of an eyebrow pressed him to keep going.

Someone cleared his throat at the foot of the biobed and Trip turned to Archer, who stepped nearer. "Well, not exactly,..." the Captain started.

Trip tensed up, "You didn't get rid of it?!" he asked accusingly. He made to sit up again and this time Phlox didn't hold him back. "What do you mean, you didn't get rid of it?!" Trip was turning red. Had they wasted the chance to rescue T'Pol?

Archer looked at E'Shara, who looked back at him expressionlessly. Somehow or other, she seemed to sense he needed support. She addressed Trip, "We were able to make contact with the alien energy form and clarify its objectives. Its only aim is to go back to a specific site and the Captain has agreed to bring it there." Trip was eyeing her through narrowed eyes. She answered before he could ask, "Given the imbalance in power between the alien and Enterprise, it was agreed that the alien energy form would maintain its current locus."

Archer looked up sharply. She didn't mention he was the one who'd agreed to that. A Vulcan helping him and not throwing him under the bus, well, well, would miracles ever cease.

Trip was staring slack-jawed as his brain slowly parsed what the Vulcan elder had said. "Are you telling me that that... that thing!... is still in T'Pol - and you let him stay there?!" he croaked. He swallowed, wondering why his throat was sore and parched, as if he'd been talking too long.

This time, it was Phlox who stepped forward, "Commander, why don't I catch you up on the events of the last few hours, while you were unconscious, hmmm?"

The retelling didn't take very long. Trip swallowed again, now he knew why his throat felt sore. He looked at E'Shara, "So you were in my head," the thought made him ill at ease, there were a few things in there he didn't really want Vulcans to know about... "Hope you didn't get spooked by the cobwebs in there," he said with a chuckle.

His attempt at humor fell flat. E'Shara just stood there, staring at him, blinking. "It would be biologically impossible for arachnids to reside in your head," she finally pointed out.

Trip felt himself blush. How obtuse could the healer be, really? "That's okay, it wasn't that funny," he muttered, mentally fishing around for anything to change the subject.

E'Shara was observing him keenly. His tone and his emotional projection were dissonant. An underlying current of anxiety was emanating from him. She had enough experience to know what that might be. "I was not 'in your head' as one would colloquially understand it," she enunciated clearly. "In the absence of your conscious acquiescence to a mindmeld, it was impossible for me to access your thoughts and emotions."

The glimmer in the Human's eyes let her know she was hitting the mark. "The alien energy form may have leveraged your bond with Commander T'Pol, but only as a channel of communication. It did not have the psionic abilities to do more. Nobody was 'in your head'."

Trip relaxed, E'Shara could sense his relief. He was young. She had seen relationships of all kinds, had had many ponn fars herself, what he was worried about was no more than an incidental fact of life. She sensed a sudden surge of negative emotions coming from the Captain of the Enterprise.

She did not understand. Humans and their emotions, they were too mercurial, too labile, there was no underlying rationale. E'Shara wondered how T'Pol could stand it, how she could be bonded to one of these aliens.

Trip rolled his tongue inside his cheek. It's true that nobody had gotten inside his head, found out about him and T'Pol, some stuff he'd rather keep to himself. E'Shara'd said the alien didn't have the ability either. He realized Archer and Phlox were staring at him. He was a little bit tired of having everyone look at him that way.

"How would that even work?" he asked, "figuratively," he added, lest they'd think he was agreeing. "I am psi-blind and the alien energy form has no psionic abilities."

Archer glanced at Phlox and Trip had a sense there was another shoe to drop, though he had no idea what it was. "We now know we can talk to the alien, that it understands what we're saying," the Captain started. "As for the lack of psionic abilities...," Phlox shuffled nervously as if he knew what the Captain was going to say, "... somehow, the alien managed to get you to try and unplug the stasis field, and attack me." Trip swallowed nervously, staring at the sling around Archer's arm. Oh, yeah, now he remembered. Not that it helped his negotiating position any. "Now that we're all on the same page," Archer went on, "it will be a lot smoother."

"But you'll have to release the stasis field, no?" Trip asked.

"We don't have to," Phlox cheerfully answered, "It was able to influence you from under the stasis field."

"Even if we released the statis field," Archer added, "It won't move from there. T'Pol is its ticket home."

Trip eyed him silently. "So..." he finally said, "if I let him use T'Pol to connect with me..."

"... we can get it home and it releases T'Pol," Archer finished for him.

"And if I don't..." Trip went on,

"We could spend days looking for the planet coordinates," Archer replied, "And we're not sure of finding anything. And if we don't..."

Trip nodded. It was starting to sound like he had no choice...

xxx

_Back to the present..._

_** Reed ** _

Spooky. It's not a very tactical way to describe it, but the whole thing's spooky. He violently disagreed when Archer let him know about the plan. Sure, hand over the ship to the intruder on board, why not?! Not that said intruder hasn't taken over their First Officer and Science Officer, has almost taken over their Chief of Engineering, and come within a hairbreadth of taking over the Vulcan healers. Notwithstanding some dippings into their weapons and medical database. Why should anyone be worried?!

So what does Archer do? Let the intruder actually take over Commander Tucker and have him guide Enterprise to god-knows-where and god-knows-who's going to be waiting for them there, ready to plunder the ship and kill its crew. The Captain is insistant that it's in the alien's best interest to keep them whole and healthy. At least until they reach its planet, possibly, but then... Lieutenant Reed can give him a half-dozen scenarios of perverse betrayal, the many ways this could be a trap.

Not that there's much he can do about it in the end. He has to reluctantly acknowledge that they're dealing with a limited set of options. Not if they don't want to lose T'Pol. Which they don't. If only because the ship is much better off with her as a commanding officer. Much better.

Reed purses his lips into a thin line. He still doesn't like it one little bit. Plus, it's spooky as hell. Having Trip there, where Hoshi should be sitting, Travis at his right, nervously following to where Trip points out on his console.

It's become a well-honed process by now. Trip walks on the bridge, the bridge falls silent, it means there's going to be a change of direction, an adjustment, Hoshi gets up and steps aside, Trip sits down in her seat, shows Travis where they're headed next, waits until Travis lays in a new course, then leaves again, back to that godawful isolation unit. As soon as he's gone, Hoshi sits back down and Travis blows his cheeks in frustration. Without exact coordinates, he can't steer as efficiently as he'd like. And Tucker can't give them the coordinates, he doesn't even know where he's going himself. The alien navigates on sight, he's told them as much.

Reed looks up at the screen, squinting at where the danger could be coming from. At least they're now in a fairly desolate stretch of space, few planetary bodies. But they're headed for an area with a lot more stars. That may be good for Archer, who's bored out of his mind after days of impulse navigation, they can't afford to get too far off track, but for him, more stars only means more potential traps, more alien ships lying in wait for them to bring them one of their own.

He straightens up, checks the wallclock. They have at least six hours before they get there. At least. He'll have everyone in security on high alert well before that.

xxx


	21. Arrival

** _T'Pol_ **

Darkness...

Is there such a thing as darkness when one is not aware enough to tell light from dark...

Darkness...

One is aware… A thread... A pulsion... The pulsion to destroy... Destroy oneself... One must...

Danger...

There is danger... It is there... It is there... Destroy... Must... Destroy... Cannot... Destroy... Must... Destroy... Self...

Cannot... Destroy... Self... Pulsion needs awareness... To destroy... There is no awareness...

A thread...

Light... A thread of light... Why...

Danger... Destroy...

A thread of light... Memories... Memories?...

Light is yellow... Hair is yellow... Hair the color of light...

Not destroy...

The danger is there... Destroy... That who is light is there... Not destroy...

Darkness comes again... The darkness is welcome...

xxx

** _It_ **

The almost-host is back from the bridge, padd in hand. He steps close to the stasis field where It is waiting. The almost-host seems to look at It except he's not looking at It but at the body under the stasis field.

Through the almost-host eyes or mind, It sees the padd. The alignment of the stars is the right one. It starts pulsating, shimmying its excitement. It can see its planet! The Realm of the Unassigned is there! Right there! Soon It will be there too!

And It will be in line for another Symbiot. The geodids in the Realm of the Unassigned are many, almost as numerous as the stars in the universe. A placement is much sought after, seldom granted. Hopefully It will be chosen quickly, It has been waiting a long time. Too long.

It has arrived.

xxx

** _Trip_ **

He's not sure where his mind is anymore.

Whenever he gets close to the stasis field, close to her, he feels like he enters a dream state. Nothing he can describe. No visions or anything like that. He's looking at T'Pol, wishing her to wake up, wondering if she can feel him, if she can feel that thing through the bond. He looks at her, so peacefully beautiful if it were not for those damn medical appliances beeping the time away.

At first, he hoped that through the alien using the bond he would get some sense of T'Pol, some connection that would tell her he's there. Some sign from her that would let him know she knew he was there.

But nothing. No sign.

He blinks his eyes and out of nowhere he knows very clearly what they must do, where the ship needs to head next. And yet nothing's happened, nothing that he can put a finger on. It just flashes in his mind, the route they need to take. He doesn't know how the alien's doing it.

He looks up from the stasis field. He knows they're almost there. He needs to get to the bridge, tell them to keep on course until they can see the fifth planet on the left. Easy to find, there's nothing else in this quadrant by comparison.

They have arrived.

xxx

** _Archer_ **

So this is it.

They're all staring at the planet sitting out there, so far and yet so near, huge in the main screen. Archer's mesmerized. Trip is standing by his chair, eyes bloodshot, more than a few days worth of beard on the angles of his thinner face. Further behind and to the side Lieutenant Reed straightens, tight as a bowstring. Archer can almost feel the tension emanating from his tactical officer. He's aware that there could be danger lurking on the planet. Or behind it. They do not know what they will find when they knock on the door. He's reminded of P'Jem.

But that's what explorers do, that's what his mission is. Knock on the door and hope someone's there, someone new and different, someone they can talk to. Perhaps someone who'll be a good fit to join the United Federation of Planets. Or not. One can never tell.

Archer leans forward, holding tight to the arms of his chair, "Ensign Sato, establish contact."

Silence falls on the bridge.

xxx

Hoshi

She leans over her console, listening intently... and can't hear anything for the bird songs. It sounds like she just stepped into a jungle. Screeches, calls, whistles, she can't hear a thing. She adjusts the dials, listening carefully. But she can't hear anything through the vacarm. She turns to archer with a look halfway between uncertainty and frustration; "I'm not getting anything, Sir..."

Archer furrows his brow, gets up from his chair. What is this?! Are they on the wrong planet? Did the alien send them on a wild goose chase? Or Trip?! But then someone would be waiting to attack them and obviously nobody's around. He looks at Trip, who looks bemused, catches Lieutenant Reed's eye. The officer looks as perplexed as he feels. Arched turns back to Hoshi, "Are you sure, Ensign?"

She's still fiddling with her controls, adjusting, nervous now that everyone's eyes are on her. She half-turns to Archer, at a loss, "Nothing, Sir... All I'm hearing are-" she doesn't even complete the sentence, whirls back to her station, listening intently. She pushes back with a sigh halfway between victory and despair.

"Birds, Captain, the birds are talking to us," of course, winged beings and all, how did she not see it before? She turns to Archer in mute apology, "I've never encountered this language structure before, Captain, it's going to take some time."

Archer straightens from where he's been leaning over her shoulder, staring at the main screen. Of course, homing pigeons, the beaks, he should have known. "Take all the time you need, Ensign." Of course, he doesn't mean a word of it, he wants her to figure it out yesterday, but stressing Hoshi's always counterproductive.

Hoshi bites her bottom lip in nervous tension. How can she ever figure it out? She feels so small, space so vast. And yet.

Yet she dealt with the Xindi. She reminds herself of that. And she also found how to communicate with the weird webbed being that'd taken over the Captain and Trip.

But back then she had T'Pol to help with the computations. How will she figure this one out? She half-turns to where Malcolm is, she can see him, standing ramrod straight by his console. He's looking at her as if he can read her uncertainty, her lack of self-confidence, as if he personally knows what it feels like. He gives the minutest nod, a small wink on the side of his eye.

He's telling her she can do it. He's right, she can do it.

xxx


	22. Chapter 22

** _Hoshi (cont'd)_ **

She swivels back to Archer, "I'll need to work closely with the science team, Sir, anyone who has any background in quadratic harmonics..." Hoshi thinks furiously, she knows there's nobody else than her that does, she bites her lip nervously, looks at Trip, "... or is a musician." She must be thinking engineer, not musician. She doesn't know why she even looked at him, he doesn't play a musical instrument that she knows of. Ah, but yes, she realizes, the sound of his engines, he can tell what's happening just from the sound. She doesn't think that's going to help in this case, but...

Archer is still staring at the screen, "... But the initial distress signal, Ensign, how did you know?..." The question hangs there, waiting for an answer.

She has to think back, how did she know...? "I'm not sure, Sir," her brow wrinkles, "it was very repetitive, there was something in it, it sounded like a cry for help."

Archer nods in response, Hoshi may be closer to solving this than she thinks, "Very well, Ensign."

He makes for his chair. He's almost there when the intercom beeps. The Captain frowns at the disruption, sits as he opens the com, "Yes?!" he says forcefully.

"Phlox here, Captain!" The doctor doesn't notice the curt tone. Or he does and ignores it, "You've got to see this!"

Archer silently sighs, what now? "What is it, Phlox?!" He would cut the doctor off but he's learned not to discount anything from the Denobulan. At least not unless he wants to painfully pay for it down the line.

"I've figured it out!" Phlox announces triumphantly. He's so excited the words scramble to come out, "I've re-rigged the medscan to display ionization interference!" He can tell by the answering silence he's confused his audience, "I can see the alien!" he adds.

Archer pauses, looks up at Trip who looks back quizzically. Then, as one, the two men break into an almost run to the lift. Archer stops the closing door with one hand, pops his head back outside, "Hoshi! Gather all the resources you need! You have carte blanche!"

xxx

** _Sickbay_ **

The three of them are grouped at the edge of the stasis field, staring in silence at the screen jerry-rigged by Phlox.

"What are we looking at?" Archer asks his voice barely over a whisper. He doesn't know why he's whispering. Perhaps now that they can see the alien, he's more aware It can see them.

Phlox points to a corner of the screen, crackling with bursts of colors flashing across in a random pattern. Archer squints, looks at Trip to check if the engineer is seeing anything, because for sure he isn't. "It's there, can you see it?" Phlox seems a little bit surprised that the Humans can't. He helpfully draws the contours of the alien with a finger.

Archer takes a step forward, tries again, but in vain. "Oh, I just go it!" Trip exclaims behind him. Archer strains further, trying to see what they're both seeing. Finally, after what seems like minutes of hard-staring, he notices what could be a variation in the pattern of the illuminations, like a veil has been laid over, but he's not sure. He points to it, "There?"

"Yes!" Phlox nods animatedly, "it takes some getting used to, but you can see how the ionized lights divert away from that area!"

That seems to be wishful thinking, partly. Archer looks at Trip, "What are the chances this is a random event?"

The engineer shakes his head, "Too regular to be random; no, there's something there."

"You can even see it move," Phlox adds.

Archer frowns, pointing at the screen, "What's with those color streaks there?"

Phlox looks in turn, "We still don't know exactly how the ionization operates..." Silence falls as the men contemplate the thinly veiled shape that seems to occupy a corner.

"That's great but how do we get rid of it?" Trip breaks the silence.

Phlox rocks back on his heels, his smile dimmed a little bit, "...Well... have we made contact with the planet yet?" He doesn't know about the bridge, Hoshi, the birds.

"We're working on it, doctor," Archer replies. They're needed back on the bridge, to try and make that happen. The Captain turns to leave, notices the glassy look in Trip's eyes, "What is it, Trip?"

The engineer seems to wake up, "We need to bring them to the surface," he answers.

"Trip?!" What does he mean, bring them to the surface. Doesn't he realize T'Pol is under a stasis field? Archer voices his thoughts in rapid succession, "What d'you mean? Bring who? T'Pol too?"

"We need to bring them to the surface," Trip repeats stubbornly.

"We can't do that!" Archer barks. He turns to Phlox, "Can we?"

The doctor shakes his head, "I don't know how we could. It's too risky."

"See, we can't!" Archer glances at Phlox, who nods in agreement.

Trip's quick to the draw, "Then, if you don't mind, Captain, I'll stay in Sickbay."

Archer narrows his eyes at his friend. Of course he minds, why would Trip even think of asking that?! Unless the alien is influencing him... He can't risk it. He shakes his head, "Sorry, Trip, Hoshi needs all the help she can get. I need you on the bridge."

The engineer's visibly not happy but he doesn't protest. Archer turns to leave, talks over his shoulder to Phlox, "Just make sure you know where that thing is at all times."

Phlox clears his throat, "As a reminder, Captain, Healer E'Shara said the alien can understand what we say, hmm." He lets the sentence hang meaningfully.

"Of course, Doctor, of course," Archer placates, and keeps going.

As the two of them leave Sickbay, Dr. Phlox sighs and walks back to the medical database. He needs to be ready for when they make contact with the planet and the alien releases T'Pol.

xxx

** _It_ **

It doesn't understand. They're at the realm. Why aren't the aliens releasing the stasis field? They have an agreement. They release the stasis field and It releases the host. It pulsates slowly in confusion. The ship is there, right there. All they have to do is bring It to the surface, to the realm.

To be so close and yet so far.

It doesn't want to wait any longer. Eternity is meaningless when what It wants more than anything else is right there at its fingertips. If It had fingers or knew what they were...

The striations of anxiety show red on the ionized screen, but there's nobody to see them. The stasis field is not released. It needs the stasis field released. They had an agreement. Bring It to the Realm, and It will release the host. That was the agreement. If they do not release the stasis field, It will not release the host.

It is aware that is not a most compelling position. It needs more. It cannot influence the almost-host, he hasn't come back. There must be something else It can do. The glow of determination streaks pink on the ionized screen, but there's still nobody to see it.

It suddenly knows what It can do. If the aliens won't release It, It will go back to the host.


	23. Attempting to Communicate

** _Hoshi_ **

"... so I set it up so that our words come out as bird calls and chirps...," Hoshi explains as a team of science specialists sets up the intermodular frequency inhertzion on her console, under the watchful eye of the chief engineer. She turns to Archer, "Our words most probably won't mean anything to anyone down there who's listening, but they will recognize that there is an intent to communicate."

Archer nods. He has a sudden mental image of Porthos yapping and howling. How would it feel if his dog actually said something? Clearly enough that there's no doubt it's talking? He's between amused and creeped out.

Hoshi speaks slowly in the inhertzion modulator, "Starship Enterprise... Starship Enterprise... Starship Enterprise..." It comes out like the plaintive two-tone call of a brown desert nowi. She waits, and repeats, "Starship Enterprise... Starship Enterprise... Starship Enterprise..." There's no knowing if anyone on the planet will get it.

Suddenly a bird's call fills the bridge, like the song of a nightingale. It repeats three times then stops. And then repeats again. Hoshi looks up at Archer, they've made contact! She fiddles with the settings of the inhertzor, her brow furrowed, speaking as she does, "The regularity of the response is a positive sign..." She falls silent, blows a wayward strand off the corner of her mouth. The song keeps playing on the bridge, she keeps fiddling with the controls, but the inhertzor remains mute.

"And..." Archer's voice cuts through.

Hoshi looks up, reminded that she's left her audience hanging, "I believe they're responding, Captain, but the structure is unlike anything I've seen before...," she looks down at the silent inhertzor. Perhaps she's made a mistake in the calculations. If T'Pol was there to check... but T'Pol isn't there. "I need more time," she says, "the UT is not programmed for anything like this..." She falls silent again.

Archer turns to Trip, "I want everyone in Science and Engineering to help figure this out." He stares at the screen, His captain instincts tell him what he needs to do. He motions to Hoshi, "Get me on that thing," and she opens a line for him.

Archer clears his throat, "This is Captain Archer of the Starship Enterprise. We come in peace. We are bringing one of your people back." He stops, listens to the responding call. There's no variation in the bird song. If only he knew what it's saying...

"Set it to loop'," he tells Hoshi. The song, his song, repeats end to end. It sounds like a lilting answer to the nightingale call. Still no reaction from the other side. He sits back heavily. Looks like they're in for another brisk round of waiting...

xxx

** _T'Pol_ **

And then there was darkness... no more...

Something... Something is rousing her from her dreamless sleep. She does not know what it is.

Something... She must escape. It is prying into her mind... She sees the shadow, mentally foresees its progress through her synaptic structure... That thing... It is invading her mind... Trying to... When a _lari'ku_ bites, one must remove the offending organ, or see the poison slowly spreads up the limbs to death... She must remove... Her ... self.

She must kill herself... the primeval urge is slowly waking her up stronger than any instinct to live... She cannot move, limbs laden with the amnesia of drugs... she strains for further awakening.

The life support machines recognize the impending awareness, inject a larger dose of relaxant.

Blissful oblivion... She sinks under the darkness...

On the overhead monitors, a heart rate stabilizes.

The vitals flirt with the orange zone but not enough to elicit a warning. The monitors dutifully remain silent.

xxx

** _Bridge_ **

The bridge is tensely silent. Everyone's only too aware of the science specialists around Hoshi's console and the lack of progress. The inhertzion modulator remains stubbornly silent, won't tell them the meaning of the bird song that repeats endlessly.

Archer catches his fingers just as they start drumming on the arm of the Captain's chair. He clenches a fist, unclenches it and works the muscles. The sound of his drumming will only add to the ambient stress. He's getting impatient, a little bit disappointed, truly. Hoshi's usually all over new dialects, new languages. Why can't she nail this one? Perhaps he's come to expect too much of her.

Hoshi knits her brow. Why can't she figure this one out? It's only a matter of deciphering whistles, thrills, calls, cacaws. The scientists have checked all her calculations, everything's right. So why isn't the machine working? What is missing? What is she missing? She thinks back to the distress signal from the alien planet. How did she know it was a distress signal? 'Come on, Hoshi... think!'

Trip is adjusting the modulator settings, inputting the revised calculations. That will remove a low vibration from the power source, avoid the unwanted suppression of any sound wave. The machine remains mute. Perhaps there's something else he's not hearing. T'Pol would be able to tell. Except she's not there, is she? The alien melody is sinking into his brain, it's like the sound of his engines enveloping him. He's feeling safe. He has a sudden urge to go home. To where the song is.

Reed is listening intently to the repetitive song. He's got it down pat - tad, tad, tid, tid, ta-ad with a whirl at the end. So long as that doesn't change, they're ok. The moment it starts sounding like 'ten... nine... eight...', he'll yell 'red alert' and Enterprise will warp out at top speed. They'll only have a few seconds to escape. He's mentally mapping all the steps, the Captain's order, Trip rushing to his station, the sequence of weapons he'll fire at the planet.

xxx

** _Phlox_ **

Phlox looks up with a frown, gets up from the medical desk. He looks around Sickbay, makes his round, checking the insulation unit. Everything's as it should be.

Then why is he feeling something's off? He looks again, but all the monitors are blinking steadily, healthily. Still something doesn't quite feel right. He can't quite put his finger on it.

A third look reveals still nothing. He shakes himself, goes back to his desk. It may be that he is externalizing his anxious search for an answer to how to disentangle T'Pol from the alien and keep her alive. He hasn't found it yet. There's no mention of anything like it in the database or any of the journals. He glances at the wall clock. It's been a while since the Captain went back to the bridge. That means they haven't made contact yet. He still has a little bit more time, which is a good thing. Once he's ready he'll be counting the minutes until his patient's freed of the alien presence. But for now it's a good thing.

Perhaps his unease stems from the uncertainty Hoshi can figure this one out. Check that, he's certain she can. The young Human female is an ace at languages, he's seen her at work many times. He's confident she'll decipher this one too, be able to reach out to the aliens.

He hopes.

xxx

** _Bridge_ **

Alpha shift turns into beta, is slowly coming to delta, and still nothing's come out of the modulator other than slight variations in the nightingale's song. Each time, Reed tenses up, then relaxes as the new tune turns out to be very much like the old one.

Archer is wearily mulling. There's no doubt the aliens are trying to make contact. If only — His thoughts are shrilly interrupted by the armchair com. He almost jumps out of his seat, snaps the com open, "Archer here!"

"This is Phlox, Captain. You have to come down." Archer looks at the com, frowns. That's the second time in less than as many days. "Alone," adds Phlox. Archer looks at Trip, who's straightened up from where he was bent over the modulator. "Very well, Doctor."

He's loathe to leave the bridge, what if that thing finally works? He looks at Trip again, realizes he's not sure he can trust he's free from the influence of the alien. "Reed, you have the com," he says as he gets up from his chair.

"Captain!" Trip is glaring at him, "I'm the one in contact with the alien on board!" The meaning is clear, it should be him.

Archer privately thinks that's exactly the reason why not, replies "Trip, I need you to make that thing work!" He's already in the lift, and gone.

xxx

** _Sickbay_ **

The two men stare at the sea of monitors above the stasis field. "You've got to make it stop!" Archer exclaims. The doctor looks up from where he's entering a long string of commands, "That's what I'm trying to do, Captain!" A human doctor might have said 'You think?!'

Some of the vital indicators flutter, then stabilize to orange. Phlox looks up "That's only temporary. All I can figure out is that the alien is attacking her somehow." He turns to Archer, "You need to communicate with it."

Archer just stares back dumbstruck. Communicate with it?! Him?! "Trip?" his mind shortcuts.

Phlox sighs, "No, you. E'Shara says that the alien understands what we say. You need to talk to It." Then seeing Archer is not following, "If you remember, you're the one who made the deal."

"What deal?"

Phlox inwardly sighs. There are days when he wonders why he chose to serve on a ship full of Humans. "That you would release the stasis field when we arrived at the planet," he says. "We've arrived at the planet." In case that's not obvious.

"But we're still trying to make contact with them!" Archer exclaims.

Phlox privately thinks it must be exhaustion clouding the Captain's brain. "And of course, we've communicated that to the alien, hmm?"

"Trip is in contact with the alien," Archer reflexively replies. He looks around for the commander but Trip is not there.

"Commander Tucker is not the captain of this ship," Phlox sharply retorts.

Archer stares at Phlox speechlessly, then regroups. "You think that It will leave T'Pol alone if I do?"

Phlox shrugs, "It may, in any case it's our best shot right now."

Archer positions himself next to the stasis field, talking loudly to a point slightly above T'Pol's head, on the wall. "You agreed you would release my officer when we arrived at the planet —

"Actually, when we released the stasis field," Phlox corrects in a whisper.

Archer glares at him, why is it that healers always feel the need to shoot their mouths off? He turns back to the stasis field, "We have arrived at your planet and we are trying to make contact with your people." He stops, waiting for an answer. There is no answer. "We will release the field as soon as we find out how to bring you planetside," he adds. They watch as one of the indicators briefly dips to red than slowly lifts back to orange. Archer smiles victoriously at Phlox, "It's heard us," he says. If that's not a signal, he doesn't know what is.

Phlox is scowling, looking into the medical computer. "I have to eliminate the possibility of a random event," is his only reply.

xxx

** _It_ **

E'Shara was right about many things, but not about Its ability to understand what is being said. It understood, yes, but that was thanks to the connection she had established.

It is in the midst of trying to wake up the host and have her bring It to the Realm when the transports come in. The first thing It notices is that the almost-host is not present. That does not bide well for their intentions. It contracts rhythmically in concern, psionic colors slowly gyrating through It.

One of the transports comes close and speaks. It does not understand what is being said but there is no noticeable psionic charge of aggression, or ill-intent. The words flow through It without meaning. It needs the almost-host to fully understand. That requires It to make a choice. A few seconds pass and It abruptly releases its pression on the host. It has made its choice. It can focus back on the host later.

On the overhead monitor, one of the indicators dips into red then orange in reaction to the sudden release of pressure, but It is unaware of that. Right now, It is summoning the almost-host.

xxx


	24. Blackmail

** _Sickbay_ **

"Archer here! What's going on?!" the Captain keeps his hand on the intercom. Why did Lieutenant Reed com him? Have they made contact with the alien?

"It's Commander Tucker, Sir," the voice is hesitant, as if Reed is afraid to speak up.

Trip? What now?! "And-?!" Archer pretty much barks in the com.

"I'm not sure, Sir, I think he may be on his way to Sickbay..."

No wonder Reed sounds tentative. Archer sucks a breath of air through his teeth, "You think?!"

"He left before I could stop him, Sir." Malcolm's been split between two decisions. Go after Trip and leave the helm - what if the aliens made contact when he wasn't around? Or stay on the bridge and let Trip perhaps attack the Captain. In the end, he's wedded to his duty and any crew member is expendable. Even the Captain.

Archer swears and cuts off the com. He reflexively kneads his shoulder, unaware he's doing it. Phlox notices. The shoulder has just mended, he doesn't want it to get injured again. The doors swish open and Archer turns to the doorway.

Trip is standing there. Except that it doesn't look like Trip. The stare is Trip and not Trip. The eyes are still the same blue, the face is the same, and yet this is a stranger. Archer would be unable to point out the difference, perhaps the way the muscles pull on the corners of the eyes and mouth? Whatever, that's not his friend standing there, that... thing... is passing itself off as Trip. He feigns joviality, slathering his voice with honey, "Hey, Trip, must be good news, the modulator is working I take it?" He's gaining time, already coiled for action, his eyes cold as they seize up this stranger.

The engineer looks at him, or rather through him. "You need to bring her to the planet," he says. Even his voice is not his own, a lower register, rougher around the edges. Archer recognizes the voice that spoke when Trip was unconscious in Sickbay. So the alien is up to its tricks again. The thought fills him with anger. They had an agreement! That thing couldn't wait until they made contact with the planet?! He's been trying his darnedest to deliver on his promise, while the alien is doing an end run around him and Enterprise!

 _'How would that be getting the better of Enterprise?'_ the voice in his head is cool, poised. Archer almost looks around for the speaker but stays focused on Trip. It's a female voice. T'Pol? But T'Pol is in a coma, completely out of reach. He can't figure who it is but he can't ignore what the voice is saying. How is this an end run around Enterprise? It's not. He shakes his head, refusing to accept it. "You need to release her first!" he hisses. No point in trying to pretend this is Trip.

Trip's head is cocked as if he's listening to an otherworldly tune. "You need to bring her to the planet," he repeats.

"How?! How do you suggest we bring her there?! She's in a stasis field, for god's sake!" Of course that's not a reason, the seriously ill or wounded are being transferred all the time. But the hell is he going to agree without bringing up every obstacle he can think of.

Trip is still staring at through him, past him. "Bring the stasis field," he says. Archer sees Phlox from the corner of his eye shaking his head in disbelief.

"You know we can't, Trip," Archer's maintaining an appearance of good humor in spite of himself, "Just release her, okay?"

"You need to bring her to the planet," the Trip/alien dyad replies. There's something in the set of his shoulders, in the way he's standing, something that lets Archer know he won't be moved, physically or otherwise, there's no point trying.

Archer tries anyway, or he wouldn't be Archer, "We don't even know where on the planet!"

"The Realm of the Unassigned. I have the coordinates," Trip answers.

Archer has a sudden insight, "And if we do, you'll leave her alone?" he asks.

Trip looks at him as if he's never seen him before. "She does not belong in the Realm of the Unassigned," he says.

Archer tries another tack, "Do you really want us to send her there?! Alone? Without anyone to protect her?!" He's appealing to any shade of humanity left in Trip.

There's a slight lightening of Trip's eyes and Archer hopes perhaps that thing is letting go. That only lasts seconds. Bells and alarms start ringing, Phlox rushes to the medical console. A couple of orderlies run in, he's barking commands at them. He turns to Archer, "The alien is attacking her again!"

"You need to bring her to the planet," Trip repeats, his gaze fixed.

"Wait!" Archer entreats, "Trip, wait! It's T'Pol, Trip! T'Pol! Stop hurting her!" Trip turns to look at him. The alarms stop. "Just give me a minute, Trip, just one minute!" Archer's goes to the intercom, Trip silently staring at him.

xxx

** _It_ **

It will soon be back at the Realm of the Unassigned. It knows it. It is pulsating slowly, taking pleasure at the fact the well-ordered universe will fall back into place and It will find its rightful place in the hall of glory. Soon.

It can feel the psionic waves from the millions of geodids on the planet, like a corona, almost blinding in its intensity. The glow enhances its own powers, It is gliding along from energy field to energy field, bending them at will. The almost-host was easily summoned. The transports are harder, they are blind to psionic energy, It cannot force them. But It can lean on the host instead.

And It does. There is no joy in doing so. It is what must be done. Without ill will towards the host, or the almost-host. It must reach the Realm, that is all that matters. It will reach the Realm, the transports will see to it.

If they want to preserve the host.

xxx

** _Bridge_ **

The intercom rings, "Archer to Bridge!"

"Reed here," the lieutenant answers right away.

"Any progress? We need to make contact with the aliens now!" Archer knows there's little hope of that happening. Reed glances at Hoshi, doesn't want to make her feel badly, looks away. She shakes her head in silent response.

"Nothing further to report, Captain," Malcolm's voice is crisp, neutral. What else can he say, really?

Hoshi's face is burning with the humiliation of defeat. The modulator sits inert on her console. She's never tasted defeat before, and it tastes like ash. She's never let Jonathan down. Yet. She'd cry but that's the last thing she's gonna do. She's a Starfleet officer, godammit. Memories flash back, that poker game, other times she's known what to expect, what was being said, even if it wasn't formulated. Again, she thinks back to the alert call, to how she knew what it was. How did she know? How?

She pushes back into her seat, "Wait!" she hollers. She swiftly turns dials on her console, looking back to when they found the alien ship. She's feeling Malcolm's eyes on her back, the eyes of the entire bridge complement. 'Just be', a voice whispers in her mind. She wants to look around but needs to stay focused on the recording. It's a male voice, but it's not Malcolm. Or Trip. Or the Captain. She can only deal with one mystery at a time. She listens.

Suddenly she feels like laughing. No, it can't be. Can it? She can't even say it, nobody would understand, but really, how could she have missed it all along? She closes her eyes, listening to the song resounding on the bridge. That's when it hits her. Of course! It is! She hopes she's not wrong. Somewhere, somehow, she knows she's not.

She turns to Malcolm, "Let the Captain know the aliens aren't hostile."

Malcolm looks back at her speechlessly but the Captain's heard her, "Got it, thanks Hoshi." The com goes silent. She leans back in her seat with a sigh.

xxx

** _Sickbay_ **

Archer flicks the com shut, turns back to Trip. Or whatever that thing is.

"You need to bring her to the planet," Trip repeats.

"Wait!" Archer shoots him a dark look, bites back an acerbic reply, glances over at Phlox who's shaking his head, there's nothing he can do. Archer'd love to do some heroic act right now, save the day and get the alien to release T'Pol. But that's not in the cards. If he refuses to bring T'Pol to the planet, the alien will kill her, he's out one officer, a friend and an officer, and no first contact. If nothing happens, she'll die, there's only so much Phlox can do. If he accepts, the aliens may kill T'Pol, and he's no better off. Or they don't, and he'll have his entire crew back, perhaps even first contact.

 _'It is the logical choice.'_ Again, the female voice. That had to be T'Pol, but it can't be, it wasn't even her voice. She's in a coma anyway, with that blood-sucking parasite trying to feed on her. He knows there is no other choice but how can he send her down with her attacker still wrapped around her mind?

 _'She will be safe.'_ The voice resounds in his head. Who is it? Perhaps the aliens. Hoshi said they weren't hostile. He looks up, searching.

"You need to bring her to the planet," Trip interrupts.

Archer waves irritably, "I get it, Trip!" He takes a deep breath, makes the command decision, "...but only after Phlox has stabilized her and everything's ready to our liking!" He can and will delay, "And we need to monitor what's happening. You stay here and work with Phlox to adapt this. I want it on the main screen!" he's pointing at the alien viewing screen Phlox has jerry-rigged to the biobed. Plus that way he keeps Trip in Sickbay, away from the bridge.

Where he can keep looking for some other way out of this whole mess.

xxx


	25. Free At Last

** _Bridge_ **

Archer's face is tense as he nods at the screen, "Proceed!"

"We're starting transportation," Lieutenant Reed's voice comes back over the intercom.

"On screen!" Archer barks. He doesn't even have to, Reed's already on it.

The bridge waits in awed silence. But the screen stays dark. Crewmembers look at each other in dismay. Phlox walks in, strides to the screen and stops, looks back at Archer with a puzzled look on his face.

"Trip, what's with the vidfeeds?!" Archer snaps at the man standing next to him. That may not quite be Trip, but the engineer's in there somewhere and he's the one who figured out the screen thing.

"Interference from the transportation," Trip replies calmly, "Give it a few more seconds."

Almost as if on cue, the screen turns a dull grey. It takes another few seconds before they can make out an image in the dull haze. It's the fuzzy white square of the biobed, in the middle of what looks like a cavernous hall. Archer squints, "Any way we can make this brighter?" Brighter, clearer, sharper, anything but this misty mess.

"This is the optimal setting, Captain. Remember we are capturing the pulsar wave interference created by the alien being, hmm?" Phlox answers from where he's standing close to the screen.

Archer sighs inwardly, focuses again. The image looks clearer now, he can make out the body on the biobed. There's a deeper shade there. A shadow. He realizes with a start he's looking at the alien coiled inside T'Pol. He thins his lips. "We did what you wanted, you've got to release her," he tells Trip. They have a deal.

Trip's staring at the screen. "The Realm of the Unassigned," he says softly, almost longingly. There's a catch in his voice.

Archer shoots him a look, his gaze hard. Is he still connected to the alien? How can that be? He flips on the intercom, "Archer to transport."

"Sir?" Comes the disembodied voice of Malcolm.

"You have a visual?"

"Full visual, Sir!" Malcolm confirms. That's code to let him know Malcolm's ready to fire, the full fire power of Enterprise at his fingertips. The alien better not try anything.

"Captain! The music's stopped!" Hoshi calls out. Indeed, the bridge is silent for the first time in a long time. "They're everywhere!" Travis exclaims in turn. Hoshi's mouth is open in a silent 'oh'. The entire bridge crew is staring in amazement.

Archer squints forcefully at the screen. Nothing. Finally he sees it. There are dark shadows all around, the walls of the huge hall are covered with them. He blinks, tries to adjust his eyes, make each individual blot, but there's too many of them, perhaps thousands, even millions. Who knows how far this hall expands. "Are those aliens?" he asks. It's a rhetorical question if there ever was one.

"We are geodids," Trip answers, as if that explains everything.

"That's not what I was asking, Tr—" Whatever he's going to say next is drowned by another cry, this time from the junior at Travis' side, "Look at those!"

The bridge crew all direct their gaze to where he's pointing. Once again Archer can't see it. The whole thing's starting to wear thin. "Bougard?!" he growls.

"On the ground, Sir! They're on the ground!" Bougard excitedly replies.

Archer doesn't have to look too hard this time. The shapes on the ground belong to the three-dimensional realm he's more comfortable with. They're much larger, weird-looking figures that remind him of something he's seen in antique book. Half the size of a man, they're lying lifeless on the ground or hunched against the wall, heads bent, beaks almost touching the ground.

"Are they dead?" he whispers to Phlox.

"They're alive, Captain," he doctor counters. He's squinting at the screen, arms crossed, "Hmm, these look remarkably like the skeleton from the alien ship." He pauses, "If they were covered with muscles and skin, that is."

"Are these the aliens from the planet?!" there's an edge in Archer's voice. The mystery is increasing. He doesn't like increasing mysteries. They usually bide no good for Enterprise.

"I'm not sure, Captain," Phlox replies. "Based on the interaction between E'Shara and the alien, there is another species, ... the enreps... I don't know about the..." he hesitates, "...aliens... on the ground."

Trip nods, "They are hosts. With us they become enreps."

Archer shoots him a look. 'With us'? "You're not an enrep?!" he demands to know.

Trip blinks in surprises, "It's me, Trip!" He hesitates, scowls, his gaze turns distant, "Not..." a whisper of sadness feels the bridge, "... an enrep. I am Unassigned." Everyone on the bridge turns to stare at him.

Archer's starting to feel queasy trying to make sense of what's going on. "I need to talk to the enreps!" he demands.

Trip has a faraway look, "Why?" he asks, his voice hoarse.

Archer scowls, "You are holding my First Officer hostage. I want her released." And using his Chief Engineer as a messenger. But one thing at a time.

Trip shakes his head ruefully, "It is not yet time. She will be released when I find a host."

Another clue. Perhaps. "You're the alien?" Archer asks.

"We are all aliens," comes the answer.

Archer'd slam his fist on his armrest but he can't afford to let his feelings show. "I brought you here, now release my First Officer!" he says again, forcefully.

Phlox prevents any further retort. "Look, the geodid!" the doctor calls out. "It's moving!"

Everyone turns to the screen. The shadow in T'Pol's head is moving. They see it uncoil slowly, so slowly, then slide out... It is now covering her face - can she still breathe? It's all over her face, her mouth. Then it starts inching down her neck. Ever so slowly, too slowly. Finally it's off her face. Archer realizes he's been holding his breath, takes in a gulp of air. The shadow keeps moving, now sliding down towards her breasts. Why can't it just get off her at the neck? Archer wonders. As if it heard the Captain, the shadow turns at the junction with the shoulder, slides off. It is off her!

"Transport her back!" Phlox shouts.

"No!" Trip shakes his head, "Not yet." He turns to the Captain, his tone pleading, "Not now. Soon."

Archer's hand hovers over the com, and stays there.

"Captain?" Malcolm's voice resounds on the bridge. He's been monitoring the situation from the transport room.

"Maintain visual, Lieutenant," Archer answers. He checks the clock. He'll make sure not much time goes by.

On the screen, the shadow is gliding on the floor, a small puddle of nothingness that squeezes and relaxes into forward progress. It is painstaking progress. The shadow skirts several of the aliens with a beak. Then it makes a bee line to an alien sitting against the wall. The alien doesn't react, it hardly seems alive. They watch as the shadow creeps up to it, then slowly make its way up, clearly aiming for the long beak. Finally it gets there and squeezes through one of the air holes. The shadow has disappeared.

Archer glances at the clock. Three minutes since last time.

The beaked alien suddenly stirs and gets up on unsteady legs. It flaps its wings, once, twice, three times, points its beak at the sky. There's a raucous cry all the way to the bridge, and then it lifts off. They track the winged alien as it makes a graceful curve towards the ceiling of the cavernous hall. It loops in tighter concentric circles and disappears into what looks like a long tunnel or a chimney, as if sucked upward by an invisible eddy.

Silence falls on the bridge. On the biobed T'Pol curls into a fetal position. "Now!" Phlox hollers.

"Now!" Trip shouts. He falls to the floor like a disarticulated puppet. Phlox rushes to his side. He nods in relief at Archer, Trip is still alive.

"Malcolm, transport her back!" Archer shouts into the com. "Medics!" he hears Hoshi yell in the background.

In the transporter room, Lieutenant Reed's jaw is set, his fingers deftly pressing the controls. If he were made of softer stuff, he'd pray to get T'Pol back and that she's fine. But he's not made of softer stuff, his mind is focused on the controls next to his left hand, the ones that will unleash a barrage of torpedos and weapons of all kinds against the alien planet. That's all he can allow himself to focus on, lest he start praying.

xxx

** _Bridge_ **

The turbolift doors close on Phlox and the gurney. Archer's keeping his focus on the planet. He still has to make first contact. God only knows he has questions for them, so many questions. All he wants is a simple 'hello'.

A barrage of painful noise suddenly emanates from the planet. Hoshi winces, pulls the earplugs off quickly.

"What is it, Ensign?" Archer asks.

"I think you'd better listen for yourself, Captain," she replies. Sound erupts all over the bridge. They all wince and cover their ears at the noise.

"Shut the com!" Archer yells, fingers pressed into his ears.

"I can't! Haven't opened a com!" Hoshi shouts back, squinting. Next to her, Travis lets go of the controls with one hand, trying to shield his eardrums. The ship lists slightly, an alarm rings at the sudden diversion from orbit.

Archer looks around through a curtain of red. The sound is unbearable, sirens erupting in every cell of his brain. He needs to get his ship away. "Evasive maneuvers!" he yells, "Travis, get us out of orbit!"

The young pilot clings to his console, trying to block the nerve-shattering noise long enough to input the commands. Enterprise lurches, seems to be peeling away like an anchor. Not one of his most elegant moves but who's counting when there's a starship level of decibels drumming to your head?

The sound's hardly abated.

"Warp one, Mr. Mayweather!" Archer shouts again.

Travis would gladly go to warp five, anything to get away from this ruckus. But if the Captain said Warp One, that's what the Captain gets.

On the screen, the planet looks like a large basketball. The noise is still there, but now just above talking level. It's obvious they haven't solved the issue, just made it a little bit better.

Archer's sitting with his jaw set. He's not going anywhere until he hears T'Pol's back to normal. And Trip. In the meantime, he's still clinging to the hope of a first contact. Eventually, he will come to realize that there was no hope of that happening, that the aliens chased them away and that he will never have the answers he yearns for. Eventually. But right now, he's not ready to give up that hope.

xxx


	26. And thus the story ends...

** _Bridge_ **

Archer hardly turns around when the turbolift doors swoosh. Lieutenant Reed salutes briefly as he rushes to his station. Archer swivels to him, "What d'you make of it?"

The security officer is staring at his console, his brow furrowed. He shakes his head, looks up at the main screen, "We can't reach them with our weapons from here...", he slaps his console in frustration.

Archer turns back to the screen. The noise is no longer disturbing, more like someone forgot to turn a streamvid off in the background. "So they just made themselves obnoxious enough we were no longer a threat..."

That's all well and good, but it doesn't tell him how he can make first contact. He turns to the science station, pauses as he realizes T'Pol is not there to provide answers. He glances at the engineering station, nobody there either. Archer sighs, leans forward, "Are you getting anything on the sensors, Travis?" After all, they were singularly focused on the Realm of the Unassigned, it's time to check other coordinates.

Travis is bent in concentration over his console, tweaks a switch, looks up at the main screen. Nothing there, just a cloud of fuzziness. He tries again, shakes his head as he gets the same result. "Can't seem to lock onto anything," he finally tells the Captain.

"Try to go back to the Realm of the Unassigned," Archer orders. He's staring tensely at the screen, a gnawing suspicion twirling in his gut. Not a welcome sensation. He hopes he's wrong.

Travis enters the coordinates, stiffens in surprise, looks up at the screen then back at the Captain, "Huh..., sir,..." Not that he needed to say much. The same cloud of fuzziness is spreading over the screen.

Archer makes a fist. He knew it! Just knew it. "Anything at all, Ensign?!" he barks at Travis. Then, because perhaps she can pull a miracle, "And you, Hoshi?"

Hoshi pushes the earbuds in with one hand, half-turns towards the Captain. "No, Sir." She winces, "If I focus the sensor, all I get is more noise." There's no need to comment further, they all knows what that sounds like.

Travis is still trying every which way. He finally pushes back in his seat in frustration, "Nothing, Sir. I... I don't know what's happening -"

"- What's happening is they don't want to talk to us, Ensign," Archer finishes for him. "Reed, you have the con, I'll be in Sickbay." He's already in the turbolift and gone.

xxx

** _Sickbay_**

** __ **

** __ **

Phlox doesn't even have to look up to know who just came in. The Captain wants to know when he can talk to his Commanders. If only he could tell him...

The question is exactly as anticipated. "Are they awake? How are they doing?" Archer asks. He can see medics quietly rushing around the biobeds. There are lines all over the place, from Trip to his monitor, from T'Pol to her monitor, from Trip to T'Pol, from monitor to monitor. He can't tell what's going on.

The doctor turns to look at Archer, "Commander T'Pol is free from the energy form, we are checking her vitals before we awaken her from her coma. Commander Tucker is... I'm not sure what's going on with him," Phlox's tone remains neutral, "All vitals are stable. There's no further sign of the alien energy force. We need to make sure there is no residual linkage, nothing to cause an adverse reaction..."

"That means he'll wake up soon?!" Archer snaps hopefully.

Phlox refrains from sighing in exasperation. What exactly is it that the Captain didn't hear? "He should already be awake... At this point I don't know if it's the effect of the lien energy form... or the link with T'Pol."

"Trip's the only one who can tell us about the people on the planet," Archer replies, as if that alone should cause him to wake up.

Phlox looks back at Trip, considering. A thought crosses his mind. The only one? Perhaps not... "Perhaps E'Shara?" he asks.

xxx

** _Y'lah'Ru Monastery_**

** __ **

** __ **

E'Shara is deep in a mind-meld with a patient, the victim of a concussive accident. The sound wave of the explosion shocked the synaptic scaffold into fragmentation, her task is to lend the patient a temporary mental framework, allow his his mind to pull the shards of who he is back together, become whole once again. He's young but his mind is not the most agile, he will never regain full capacity. Only enough for professional and social actualization.

A psionic wave passes through her, almost distracting her from the task at hand. But she has the strength of experience on her side, she remains firmly focused, catalogues the event for further analysis, pushes it away from her consciousness.

Now she is done. The patient is in the recovery room, it will be several days before he is conscious again. She is meditating to regain her center, to let go of the nightmarish quality of the patient's shattered reality. Her mind calls up the memory of the psionic wave for review and analysis.

E'Shara blinks. This should be impossible, the contact was too brief, the mental construct too alien, there should be no remaining echo. How is it that it reached her, so many light years away? Once again she is reminded of the mysterious complexities of the universe. She bows her head in acknowledgement and gratitude. She is pleased as to what came to pass. If asked, she would be adamant that this does not stem from knowing the young female and her bonded lover are reunited, but from having confirmation that the universe is an orderly construct indeed.

Her meditation is shattered into a thousand sharp shards by the internal com system.

"Apologies," her young associate bows on the screen, "we have a communication for you, from the... Starship Enterprise," he says the name with a pronounced accent.

"No apologies necessary," she answers as she accepts the com. She's the one who gave orders that she should be interrupted for any communication from the Human vessel. The face of Dr. Phlox fills the screen. She fast forwards through his statements that the commanders are fine, she already knows that. She stops when the doctor's face turns serious, a sign he is embarking on a different topic. She listens attentively, leans back in her chair, thinking. So the young Human has no memory of what happened... That confirms what she suspected. The geodids dwell in a psionic dimension that only few can reach. It is no wonder that the Humans are unable to make contact with the planet. And its people may not want to be reached at all...

She thinks back to her time with the geodid. How she had a fleeting vision of structures but her focus was pushed somewhere else. She thought the alien was preoccupied with its own quest but perhaps in fact It did not want her to fully apprehend its world. She thinks back to the enreps, flying high in the sky. To the anticipated air battle. This is a world much different from Vulcan or the Federation. To the wrecked alien ship that the Enterprise found. It is also an advanced civilization. One who could easily make contact.

She carefully crafts a response to the doctor. Carefully because Humans might not understand that they simply do not have the necessary capacity for contact. Carefully because revealing the geodid's culture to be complex and advanced may only spur efforts to reach the planet. She limits herself to a description of what she was shown.

xxx

** _Bridge_**

** __ **

** __ **

Archer turns hopefully to Phlox as he enters the bridge, darkens when he sees the doctor's face. It's obvious from Phlox's expression that the chase was unsuccessful. "She had nothing?" he asks.

Phlox shakes his head, "E'Shara has no further information than what we already know... I checked with Commander Tucker again, but it looks like his mind was wiped clean. He still has no memories of anything that happened since T'Pol was attacked." He looks around, "The... music has not stopped?"

Archer scoffs. Music?! Noise would be a better descriptor. He glances at Reed, still tensely manning his station, waiting for any development. "No... At least that... music... is no longer blaring in our ears." His tone sours, "It looks like our 'friends' tolerate us being this far."

He pauses, considering. They're at somewhat of a stalemate. Every time they try to get closer the music becomes a painful noise that echoes directly into their minds. There's no response to their hails, on any frequency. They can see the planet, but that's about it. Everything else is a complete mystery. "And T'Pol doesn't remember anything?" he asks again. There's always the hope some of what Trip saw filtered through to her.

The doctor shakes his head again, "It will take some time before the mental trauma subsides fully, but I do not expect Commander T'Pol to remember more than she does now." He looks at the screen, "It could be weeks before we know for sure," he adds.

Archer nods in response, staring darkly at the planet. Seconds tick by. There would be silence, but for the nonstop noise resonating on the bridge. The Captain suddenly seems to shake himself off a reverie. He gets up, "Well, no point extending our stay where we're obviously not wanted. Ensign Mayweather, set a course back towards Federation space! Lieutenant Reed, in my study! We have a report to write!"

xxx

** _Sickbay_**

** __ **

** __ **

"How is she? Can I see her?"

Phlox turns to the haggard-looking young man standing at the door. "Shouldn't you be in bed?" he growls. His frown is only for the sake of appearance. Trip and T'Pol are no longer sharing a mind through or with the alien, and that is a good thing. He still has no idea how it all was possible, he'll have to write a report, send it to E'Shara so she can perhaps explain further. Also help him decide what to publish. Or not.

"I want to see her," Trip replies, with the air of a small boy denied a gift.

Phlox opens his mouth to answer, is interrupted by the doors swooshing again. This time it's the Captain.

"Dr. Phlox, Trip." Archer says, his gaze heavy on Trip. It will be a while before he fully trusts his Chief Engineer again. He turns back to Phlox, "How are things, Doctor?"

"Just as expected, Captain, just as expected. As I said earlier," Phlox's patience is endless with these Humans, "it will take a while before the synaptic functions are back in rhythm, hmmm." The two men stare at him speechlessly. Phlox gathers they have no clue what he just said. "The uncoordinated state is quite challenging," he adds.

Again, two pairs of eyes stare at him in blank incomprehension. Phlox sighs, he'll have to explain even further, "The nausea should subside in a few days." 'Nausea' is a euphemism, the First Officer of Enterprise is throwing up her guts every time she opens her eyes. He's still working on calibrating an antidote, something that will take the edge off. In the meantime, there's no end to her misery.

"Oh," both men exclaim in unison. Phlox turns to Trip, "And you, Commander, are you feeling any... ill effects, hmmm?" he asks, "After all, it's only been twenty-four hours."

"I'm not sure," Trip answers truthfully. "Well, I'm sure I'm not, but I'm not sure if any of this is..." he embraces the entire scene with the wave of an arm, "...you know... real."

"Hmm," Phlox's answer is non-committal, "All your readings are fine, nothing outside normal range. Your psi range is on the low side," Trip nods forcefully, "which is perhaps why you're experiencing... double-vision, if I may qualify it as such." He figures he needs to explain further, "It's as if a muscle you never use was stretched beyond its capacity, it will take a few days before it all falls back into place."

"So, can I see her?" double-vision or not, Trip has a single goal in mind.

Phlox looks from Trip to Archer, and back. "I can only allow one visitor for the day. Hopefully, she'll feel better tomorrow." He seems to make up his mind, "Apologies, Captain, but I still need to run some tests, preferably on both Commanders together."

"Go ahead, doctor, I only came to check that things were okay."

Phlox watches the Captain leave. He knows that's not really what the man came for. He looks like he's under a dark cloud, not being able to make first contact must be weighing on him. Once the testing is over, he resolves to make a bee line to the Captain's quarters.

xxx

** _Trip_**

** __ **

** __ **

"Can you hear me?"

Phlox has warned him, but it's still very unsettling to see her, eyes closed, white as a sheet. The doctor is busy in the background, checking their readings, drafting notes on his padd.

Trip pays him no attention. He's focused on T'Pol. Why is it that he feels... nothing?... when he looks at her. He glances around the room to make sure. He sees Phlox and feels secure, that the doctor is a friendly expert. He looks at the machines and feels an engineer's interest into the way they're made, how they work. He glances at the orderlies and recognizes Salmann, never really thought what the wiry little guy did outside of the gym. He looks around Sickbay and even the walls talk to him, half anxiety and fear at waking up there again, half reassured knowledge that he'll be taken care of. He looks at T'Pol, and nothing. Nothing. Not like he can't remember or something like that. Nope. Nothing. Like the big naught. No feelings, no memories - a big black rectangle of nothingness.

'You were always there for me.' The voice speaks in his head. He looks at her, but she's not the one who spoke. Her eyes are still closed, she's lying still as a statue, hell, he can't tell if she's even awake. Phlox has warned him that's for the best, the last thing he wants is for her to move even a small finger. He looks around the room. Who spoke?

'Who spake.' He chuckles. T'Pol chuckles in response. That surprises him, he's never known her to chuckle. But she's sitting on the biobed, stretching, looking at him like he's the cat's meow. "Hey, you're awake!" He's so relieved. He wasn't sure what was going on anymore.

"I am." She looks around in surprise. "Why am I here? What am I doing in Sickbay?"

He wants to tell her but he can't, the words are dying on his lips as he tries to think about them. There's something he wants to tell her. There was something. He frowns. She was wounded. He knows that. He remembers that. She was wounded and in Sickbay. And then. Then there's a film over his memories. But somehow he was talking to her. He knows that. He was... Was he talking to her? Or did he imagine it? There was someone else there. Someone... The film grows darker, the memories are hardly there at all. But somehow he was communicating... with her? Or through her?... the whole time.

"It's okay, it's complicated, but I was there with you the whole time. You're healed now. We just couldn't afford for you to wake up." he says. How does he know that? He doesn't remember anything at all.

"Commander?... Commander Tucker?!" The voice is jarring, brings him right back to Sickbay. He blinks, he's looking at Phlox's face. The doctor is frowning. "Are you all right, Commander?"

"Yes, yes I am!" Trip answers automatically. He looks at the biobed, where T'Pol is still lying with her eyes closed, like she didn't get up or anything like that. He swallows. His throat feels horribly dried. But she was talking to him! Or was she? And was he talking to her? Again, he has a feeling of double vision, like nothing happened and what he remembers happened. And no way of telling which is true.

He looks at her again, and suddenly he feels... home. The warm and sandy home of Vulcan, his robes are being whipped around him by the wind, she's smiling at him, the suns are shining red on his face. He extends two fingers for a kiss, wraps her into his arms as she returns the gesture. They're home. He revels in the enhanced power of the bond, this is what it should have been like all along, this is what it will be like until the end of their time.

He blinks again. He's back in Sickbay, she's still on the biobed. He doesn't know what's happening, he doesn't remember what happened, but everything's all right, everything's gonna be all right. That, he knows.

xxx

** _Hoshi_**

** __ **

** __ **

Phlox looks up as the doors swoosh open, wondering what is it now. Who got hurt in the middle of delta shift? Enterprise's on a slow passage back towards Federation space, all systems are on automatic pilot, the most he should get at this time is an errant bump or a pregnancy prevention injection.

"Hoshi!" he exclaims with happy surprise.

The communications officer is in an off-duty kimono, a simple shift she likes to wear when she spends the night alone, when Malcolm doesn't visit. No nightclothes are needed or much used when he does... She seems to glide to his desk, perhaps she's tiptoeing. For a split second, Phlox wonders if she's an apparition - what was it she called it - ah, a yurei.

"Doctor..." Hoshi starts hesitatingly.

An apparition doesn't talk. He thinks. "Yes Hoshi?" Phlox puts all the power of a smile into his reply.

The young Ensign hesitates, biting her lip, before she resolutely plunges ahead with what's on her mind, "The aliens... the enreps... and the geodids... what do you make of it, Doctor?"

Phloz eyes her circumspectly. There's something she's not asking. He tried to infer what she might be thinking, on the basis of her cultural and personality makeup. He pushes back from his console, turning so he can squarely look at her.

"Are you asking me how I think they physiologically exist, Ensign?"

Hoshi nods emphatically, "Yes... I couldn't tell... are they both sentient? Or just the enreps?"

Phlox leans back, watching her carefully. There's more to the question she asks. He has a sudden memory of Hoshi being kidnapped by the Xindi, the use of an external thought parasite, her inability to fight back, she's spent many hours processing the experience under his psychological guidance. He takes a broad swab at it. "... You're wondering if the geodids are an invasive species, so to speak, an entire planet of... thought eaters?"

Hoshi smiles timidly, "That's it, exactly."

Phlox crosses his arms, eyeing the young woman, carefully thinking through what he's about to say. "It is difficult to know without more information, hmmm?" he starts, "The geodids could be a parasitic life form... but from what we saw, the enreps had a physical structure, whereas the geodids could not be seen, hmmm? So I wouldn't say that the geodids are parasites, no..., it was a form of symbiosis, where the two of them, the geodids and those aliens in the cave, became a different species." He pauses. "But not a different species, no, the enreps had the same physical form as the aliens in the cave. No, not a different species." He pauses again, hesitates, "There is no record of anything like this in the medical databases but... there are some cultures that believe in a separation between the physical and spiritual dimensions... that it takes a spiritual 'input', so to speak, to animate the physical form... That strikes me as a closer analogy."

Hoshi is staring intently at the doctor, "Like a soul?"

It is Phlox's turn to be silent. "I'm not sure if I would call it that exactly," he finally says, "... but who knows! The ways of the universe are mysterious indeed." He smiles at Hoshi.

She smiles back, eyes sparkling, "Thank you, doctor."

"Anytime, Hoshi, anytime. You have a good night."

Phlox watches her exit Sickbay and goes back to his medical journals. He pauses for a second, looks up at the ceiling. A soul. Perhaps some future research team will be lucky enough to have access to the planet, find out more about the whole thing. The idea is intriguing.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all, for reading, for following, for commenting. I do not respond to comments because I have not found a way to do that without increasing the comment counter!

**Author's Note:**

> Also being published on FF.


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